Alfred Jr Worlds end
by Muta Kitty
Summary: America's gone. The world is ending one by one. Prepare for a tragedy. where happy endings don't exist
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Have you ever ran for hours but never moved? As if you were stuck in one place for the rest of your life? That's what happened to me, or at least close. It felt as if I was running, running at a speed that seemed my body couldn't handle, and I never moved. Not even a muscle. Then, in a split second, when my body finally broke from all the running, I fell. I kept falling; into space I thought at first, every part of me seemed weightless. Then it hit me. I mean it literally _hit_ me. The ground came up before my eyes even saw it. After that every memory after that, was blurred and distorted. Right before my recollection disappeared for good, there was one last sentence I ever heard; "America! Look!"

Chapter Eins

"Guten Morgen everyone! Today is an extremely important meeting, so I will have no delinquency! Everyone got it?" At the head of the room stood a tall German, his hands tightened around a stack of papers. "Good! Now, I Germany will begin this meeting! France! I would like to invite you on a food enterprising opportunity!" A handsome young French man sat not too far from the German, playing with his silky blonde hair. "Germany, it would do you good to learn not to yell every'zing." France uttered, as he stood up walking towards the German. "France, sit down! There is no need to come u-" Germany was cut off as France placed his arm around his back. "Germany, Germany. Really you are too stressed! You forgot we are missing a key player 'ere today!" France pointed to an empty seat on the far end of the room. "Angleterre! Where is your dear Amerique?" Angleterre (or in other words, England) turned around, clearly blushing. "How would I know?" His voice shaking with anger, "After all I'm not his mom!" France gave a slight chuckle and whispered under his breath. "Not anymore!" The angered Brit heard, and rising to his feet started shouting all sorts of profanity at the French man. "QUIET!" Germany pounded his fist on the desk. "Someone go find that nuisance America! Meanwhile I will go over my plans of removing a few unnecessary treaties if we cannot hold it together!" this got the Brit and French man to take their seats quickly, as Japan left to go call America.

Ring . . . ring . . . ring. "Come on America, prease pick up!" Japan sat outside of the meeting room, looking out the window waiting for the obnoxious American to pick up. "Hey dude! You've reached America!" The familiar answering machine picked up. "Iya! America! Where are you?" Japan was about to close the phone when he heard something new added onto the happy tone. "Please don't bother to leave a message! I'm going on a trip, so I won't be back! Thanks bro!" Japan quickly closed the phone. "What? America, what do you mean? Why did you say you 'won't be back'?" He pushed the phone back in his pocket before hurrying into the room again.

"Ah Japan? Could you explain it a little better aru?" "China-san, I'm very worried! America riterary said he wasn't coming back!" "I'm sure it's just a joke aru, don't get worked up about it Japan." The two countries sat off away from the rest. "Prease china! Just come risten!" Chine looked around the room. He chuckled seeing most the countries were dead asleep. "Alright, let's hurry aru." They quickly left their seats, attracting the attention of the already flustered Germany. "Where are you two going?!" "We'll be right back Germany-san" Japan replied rushing out the door. "Well hurry!" He yelled as the door slammed closed. "Now listen up the rest of you!" Germany shouted, waking some sleeping countries up. "We are already half way through the meeting, so expect you to put in some input before this meeting is adjourned! Italy! What do- err, no . . . Russia! What do you think?" "Hey-ah, wait!" Italy pouted. "Germany! I-ah wanted to-ah tell you-ah something!" Germany sighed before pointing at the Italian. "Italy, I give you the floor!" he sat down as Italy hopped up the front. "Well-ah, I just wanted to-ah say how much I-ah loved you Germany!" The whole room shook as the German slammed his head against the table. "ITALY! THAT IS NOT WHAT I MENT!" he pulled himself up to his feet to grab the Italian, when Italy floated over. "aww-ah Germany! Please don't be-ah mad! Here! I made you some-ah pasta!" Germany took the Italian and sat him down, right when china and japan burst in. "Germany aru! America's dead!"


	2. A very nervous England

Chapter zwei

And somehow here he was, stuck in a plane next to an accident prone Italian, a nervous wreck Brit, and a whining Russian. Germany sighed as he went back over the plan in his head. Alright, just fly over America, make sure the country's fine, and then finish this meeting! He wished he knew it would be that easy, but seeing how the Brit in front of him was shanking in anxiously, he knew it was going to take more to convince everyone. He pressed against the plane seat as he recalled how it all went down this morning.

It all started when China and Japan came crashing into the room. "America's dead aru!" China practically shouted. "What are you going on about?" Germany asked, irritation flowing in his voice. "Sorry Germany-san, but China and I berieve that America might be gone, for good!" japan replied, honest worry cracking in his voice. Germany sighed and looked at the very solemn faces of the two oriental countries in front of him. "You should know America by now! Either he's being over dramatic or pulling one of his stupid jokes! Just don't react and he'll stop." Germany turned back around to continue talking as England spoke up. "W-wait. Just out of curiosity, what makes you say that Japan?" Germany face palmed as Japan continued on his so called 'unnecessary rant'. "His voicemair said 'I'm going on a trip, and I won't be back'!" Germany interrupted by flat out screaming in laughter. "AHahaha! What did I tell you?! You people are freaking out over literally nothing!" In a turn of events, the usually cranky Brit who could care less, snapped at Germany. "How do _you_ know?! He could be serious!" Everyone instantly had their attention drawn to England. "Anglerette, you seemed worked up! Germany, I zink for Anglerette's sake we might as well check. We don't want him to lose his poor Amerique!" France said, sparkles flowing off him. "France, for one in my life I'm going to completely ignore what you said and agree with you. Germany whether or not you like it I'm heading off to check up on America." England said as he stood up, dusted off his suit, and started to walk out the door. If Germany had a little more energy he would have declared world domination because of that little act, but it seemed as if the whole room agreed with England. "What is wrong with you guys?! Since when have you cared about America?!" Germany questioned. There was a minuet of silence before china spoke up. "Well, he owes a lot of debt to me aru, It would really hurt my economy if he was to disappear." The rest of the countries agreed, making up excuses about what America "owed" or "supplied" them. When the hustle died down, Japan spoke as he walked to accompany England. "I'm going because Americas my friend." He said proudly. England smiled before saying. "And I'm going because that lump's going to crush my economy if he even dares thinking about dying!" Russia stood up and grabbed his scarf. "vait, I am coming vith yu." "What?" England asked surprised. "What interest could you possibly have in going?" Russia smirked as he said a little too honestly, "Is it bad for me to be vorried?" Japan and England gave each other a look of agreement as Russia whispered under his voice. "And it vould help to know if I have avoided having to wipe out another nuisance." Germany looked at the trio of rebels, and let out a grunt of pure frustration. "Fine I will come with you, not because I care what happened to that trouble starter, but because I want this meeting to get back on track as soon as possible!" "But-ah Germany! I-ah want to come!" Italy pouted from the back. "No Italy, you need to stay here and watch over the others!" Germany replied, trying hard to keep his voice from rising. "Germany! But-ah Germany!" The Italian pouted again. Then he made an act of hugging the German and refusing to let go. "Italy! Italy…" Germany stuttered as a blush rose to his cheeks. "F-fine! just get off!" "Ve~! Oh thank you-ah Germany!" The Italian beamed.

Germany, Italy, Japan, Russia, and England walked up to the four seated plane. "Oh great, were not going to all fit!" Germany stated, his irritation seeming stick permanently to his words. "It's-ah okay Germany! I can-ah sit in your-ah lap!" Italy said with glee, deadly serious. "It's okay Itary, I can sit in the storage area." Japan offered generously. "That's a better idea." Germany agreed, trying to find his glasses to cover up his growing blush.

That's how he ended up here. Shoved in the back of a small plane, while a nervous England flew the plane at dangerous speeds. "Slow down! You're going to kill us all! Normally I vould'nt complain, but I'm in here too!" Russia whined, this time struggling to breathe as Italy leaned over once again to show Germany a picture. "Italy!" Germany sighed. "For the thousandth time! Stop killing Russia and sit up right!" "But-ah Germany! I wanted to-ah show you ah picture! I-ah drew it myself!" Italy smiled, his tone somehow changing the German's irritation. "Alright Italy, what-"

"NO! OH PLEASE AMERICA NO!"

The plane went silent as England's cries increased. "NO! You can't do this to me! You can't just leave me! You bloody idiot! You git! You wanker! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME! YOU CAN'T JUST DIE!"

That's when they looked out the window.

They reached the US.


	3. The end of the USA

Chapter drei

Water flooded over the land, muddy water lapping at forest, and covering fields. The coast was submerged fully with seawater, once where houses stood was now only ruble piles washed by the waves. The land that was safe from the flooding was cracked with heat. It was clear that earthquakes had torn the land apart. Whole states where torn off and flooded. Forests were on fire, and the rest had already been destroyed. The country was dead. This is what was left of the USA.

None of the countries dared to speak as England continued to scream. His cries going from cries of anger, to only being able to mumble America's name through small moans. He flew over the country, checking every state, wishing that by some chance there would be some hope left. Yet none was found. They had flown back over states twice, as England got lost when he couldn't find Texas. (Which was emerged completely underwater)

"England, I think it's time to head back, the others need to hear the news." Germany said, his voice drifting off. Inside he was feeling guilty, as he didn't even believe America in the first place. "No. . . Just a little longer. I know there's more. There HAS to be." England replied, his voice seeming dull and hopeless. "I agree! It's about time we headed back!" Russia smiled, his voice dancing with glee. "What are YOU so HAPPY about?!" England snarled, obviously fighting back tears. "I thought you said you were WORRIED!" Russia gave a slight turn of the head. "England, I am very sad about this too! No need to get mad!" England gave a low growl in reply, and even Italy could tell Russia was lying. Germany tried to compromise with England again. "Can we please go back? The others-"That's when it happened. England snapped around, said with the coldest voice ever. "I don't even care about the others. I honestly hope that they die!" then pulled the plane up to full speed, before pulling down into a nose dive.

"ENGLAND!" was all that Germany could yell as the breath was knocked out of him. Italy was thrown against the seat and knocked out as Russia held onto the seat trying not to scream and maybe wet himself. Yes Russia. That should tell you something. Something like England has lost it. Gemany struggled against the downwards force as he crawled over England. He pulled the plane up, England not even fighting as he was busy covering his face as tears fell. Finally when Germany got the speed down and the plane flying they were only a few yards from the ground. "ENGLAND GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!" He screamed, pulling himself back to help Italy, not noticing Russia whimpering in fear. Yes, once again, Russia. England lifted his face out of his hands, anger and pain glimmering in his emerald eyes. "Fine, if you don't want to die with me, I'll die ALONE!" He cried, trying to sound serious and dark even though his voice was unsteady and cracking. He stumbled up dodging Germany's hand trying to push him back in his seat, and pulled the plane's door open. Germany already knew what England was doing. He was going to jump. "England!" Germany grunted as he pulled himself into the driver's seat. He managed to shake England on his knees as he tried to lower the plane. England rebounded quickly, managing to stand up and position on the edge of the doorway. "Let me die here!" He screamed, clearly not just directed at Germany. The next second was a blur. England was falling through the air, and Germany could only watch in horror. In the back seat Italy was still out cold, and Russia was barely able to think as blood dripped from his nose. It was over. England jumped.

England felt the water filling up his ear. It was all down his side, he could feel it move under him. His head hurt, and he felt his chin stinging from the water. He was so close. Just a little sooner and he would have done it. He would have killed the UK. England managed to pull himself up. "Dang it America! Why didn't you let me die?!" He wiped what he thought was water from his face, looking at it and realizing it was mud. He was pretty sure anyways, but his vision was blurred and unfocused. It would make since as he saw he landed by a swampy lake that was formed from the flooding. "Where am I?" He mumbled to himself. He picked at his right ear; it was covered in mud inside. England walked around for a bit, and he noticed everything was here was okay. Other than a few small quakes and light flooding, it was safe. The trees were still standing, most of the buildings were perfect condition, and grass and trees still grew. Even the air was fresh still. He wanted to cry, the hope that started filling him. This means Americas still alive! Right? He broke out running, screaming out his name. "America! America where are you?" England rounded the corner of the forest and found himself in what used to be the capital. "I would know this place anywhere!" He looked around and his heart dropped. There was dead laying everywhere, almost every building fallen in. He fell to his knees, and bowed his head in respect. He looked around and saw a ripped flag in the rubble of a building. It was one a child would have waved on the fourth of July. He picked it up and put it in his pocket, continuing to walk. As he strolled down the cracked streets of the capital, hear heard a small cry out of his left ear. He stopped and tried to listen. "Hey . . . get out of here." England turned to hear where the voice came from when he saw it; a man stood behind him, clutching his heart. "America?!" He screamed running towards the person. "Get out of here." The person replied, falling to his knees. "It's not safe England." England kept running, and then stopped in surprise and dread. It wasn't America. "Who are you?" He asked, noticing the sharp metal in the stranger's chest. "What is that?" he asked. "It's an accident that's what it is. This whole place is an accident and you need to hurry and leave England!" The stranger replied, even in his pain smiling. "How do you know me?" England asked, surprised. "Promise you'll leave?" the guy asked. England agreed, helping him to sit down. "It started when the earthquakes came. Most of us got out, running to other countries. Then the flooding came, Texas was lost and most our coasts. Even Oregon's hanging on only by a few cities. No one's here anymore, if they are their dead. I'm the last American here, and even that's about to change." He uttered out, clenching his stomach as the pain increased. England helped to prop him up, not sure if he should pull out the metal or not. "Is America here? Is he okay?" England asked, preparing to pull the metal out. "Don't worry about me... as for America." He held his hand to his heart and spoke with the last bit of energy he had. "America may be gone, but it will never fall. England, don't let us ever be forgotten. Don't let anyone forget the land of the free." He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. "But is America dead?! And how did you know me! How did…oh. That's when England realized who he was. He took the flag out his pocket, pulled the metal from the man's chest, and set the flag in his hands. Then he laid the man on his back, flag in hand, and saluted him. And there laid him. The last President of the United States.

Germany let all sorts of profanity fly as he flew over all of Maryland looking for the Brit. "Are you sure he fell here? Not Virginia?" Russia offered, looking out the window. "I know where he fell dumkoft!" Germany snapped. He usually wouldn't be this cranky, but Italy was out cold and as far as Germany cared now, if Italy can't hear, everything goes. Russia sat back wishing could go home, even Belarus wasn't as scary as that near death experience he just had. "THERE!" Germany hollered, positing the plane downward. Russia looked through his window, watching Germany fly closer and closer… and closer? "Germany! Pull up you're going to hit him!" Russia cried hopping up to grab the controls. "I know! Sit down!" Germany growled, pulling away from England just as he landed. Russia ran out of the plane and pounced on England. He pulled him into a headlock and pushed him on the plane. "YOU ARE NEVER EVER DOING THAT AGAIN." Russia cried, still shaking from earlier. And for the last time, Yes, Russia. England didn't fight; he just pulled himself up to look over the horizon. "America…" he thought. "Does this mean you're still alive? Did it work?" the last thing he ever saw before Russia pulled him away was the sun setting over a hill far away. If he had looked at the foot of the hill, just a few miles more, he would have seen me. Now you know what happened, and it's time for_ my_ story to begin.


	4. Meanwhile in England

Chapter vier

England lay motionless on his couch, gently stroking a metal shard between his fingers. 100 years had passes since he pulled the shard out of the last . . . American. The word brought shivers through him. American was a term of the past, and the country itself was a term long forgot. Some of the new maps even labeled it 'barren land'. England let out a small sigh as he adjusted his head better, placing the shard on the coffee table. Hearing the familiar sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, he pushed himself up and grabbed his jacket, pulling it around him. France walked in the room holding one of England's larger food trays. On it was various amounts of food, each from a different French cuisine. England couldn't even remember the last time he'd cooked. France set the platter down and embraced England in a hug, then together they sat on the couch as England ate up every last piece of the French delicacies'. "You're always so 'ungry England, perhaps I should come for breakfast as well?" France asked, watching England hungrily lick the plate. "No. There is no need, if I were you id keep my boundaries." England replied, not angrily but not kindly either. France let out a sigh in agreement before placing an arm around England's back while reclining on the couch. England set the platter on the coffee table with the metal shard, before picking up the TV remote and turning to the news. This had become a routine with France and him, France would bring lunch over and they would watch the news before having dinner and parting. They did this for the last 40 years, and it would have been sooner if England hadn't isolated himself from the world after America's death. France watched England as he set the platter down to grab the remote when the metal shard caught his eye. He wasn't going to say anything, but it was starting to bother him. "Euh, Anglerette, I don't want to bother you, but, euh . . ." England set the remote down and looked at the French man curiously. "It's just, euh, I was wondering 'ow much longer you were planning on keeping that, euh, souvenir?" France stuttered, trying to keep the conversation light. England's face turned confused. "Souvenir?" He questioned. "Euh, zat pretty piece of metal." France replied, fearing England's reply of anger. "Hmm? Why would I get rid of it?" England asked calmly, letting out a small yawn as he stretched out his body. "Well, euh, it's just zat, euh, now zat Amerique is gone, I see no point to dwell over zat piece of memory." France replied, trying to smile even though England was clearly perturbed. "France, America is not gone." England answered, frustration adding to his voice. France shuddered knowing he should stop here, but continued anyways. "Anglerette, surely you can see? America has fallen-" France was cut off by England as he snapped. "America can never fall! Have you forgotten?! Have you forgotten the country you looked up to through your own revolution? Your hardest time and he was your hero! He truly was the hero! Am I the only one to realize that as he is now gone?!" Jealousy danced through France's eyes. "'ero is an exaggeration, 'e was simply an example to follow! 'e has fallen, 'e is just a memory. You can be so much 'appier if you just forget him! z'row z'at stupid shard away!" France snapped back, hurt carrying in his voice. England rushed up to his feet eyeing France with anger. "You sound hurt France." England snarled his voice dropping to a whisper. France looked away, a frown coming to his face. "I am Anglerette. Can't you see I want you to forget 'im, and just remember . . . me?" France's eyes met England's, and he reached for his hand. England felt France's hand wrap around his, as France pulled him closer. "Anglerette." France whispered, embracing him in a hug. England didn't fight, and as they stood there he whispered one last question. "Do you want the world to forget America?" France let out a small sigh, sadness deepening in his eyes. "Anglerette . . . they already have." England's heart dropped, his emerald eyes became glossed over, and anger sparked in them. He pushed away from France, his voice unsteady as he yelled. "America will never fall as long as it is in your heart! Am I the only one that knows that? Am I the only one who still remembers him?" England tried to sound strong, but his sentences stated to mash together, and he stopped realizing he was unable to make a point. France took his hand. "Forget 'im Anglerette." France uttered in a low breath, sending shivers up the Brit's back. England turned his head away. "No . . . I will never forget him." He softly spoke, his point coming through clearly. France's jealousy ignited, his eyes making contact with the metal shard laid aside. He made a quick grab for it, planning to throw it out the window for good, when England's hand snatched it before him. England let out a low snarl. "OUT." France stepped back as England approached forward, growling the whole way. "I want you OUT right NOW! I don't want you to come back TOMMOROW, or FRIDAY, or SATERDAY, or even EVER AGAIN!" England pushed France out the door and slammed it behind him. "I promised the president no one would forget, and so help me they WON'T!" England let out a cry of frustration as he fell on his knees. He sat there motionless, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts carried him away, as he let the pain swell inside him.

England woke up on the hard floor, the cold wood boards pressing against his face. He pulled himself up, felling cold inside. He tried to remember why, when his fight with France came back into his mind. The Brit paced into the kitchen, looking at the clock and overdue dishes. He frowned remembering France was supposed to do them, but now he probably never would. England found France's apron and pulled it around him, then started the water for the dishes. He tried to figure out how long he'd slept for. He guessed only about four hours. He poured the soap into the sink looking outside. Still raining, and the moon was nearly reaching its peak as the dark sky surrounded the window. He picked up a plate and began to scrub it, trying to remember what he what he got so upset about. He was on the fifth plate when he remembered. The promise.

1:36 am. England

England looked up at the small plane in front of him. It was the same one he used 100 years ago when he found out about America. He kept it safe, never used it again. He used to have someone take care of it, but it was clear that someone was now dead too. England pulled open the door, bits of rust falling from its hinge. As he entered inside the foot bar tilted off, crashing loudly to the ground. England let out a mumble of profanity out under his breath as he pulled himself higher up the side of the plane. Finally when he crawled inside he was surprised at its mint condition. The seats were just like he left them, and even the floor was clean with the exception of blood smears. He closed his eyes trying to flash back to those moments. It hit him faster than he expected.

100 years ago, America

England was pushed into the plane as Russia slammed the door behind him. Russia yelled something, but England could hardly hear him. He just could stare out the window, watching the country he knew so well drift out of sight. In the back seat a small Italian let out a moan, rubbing his head. "Italy? Are you awake?" Germany asked, awkwardly adjusting himself when he realized how desperate it sounded. "Ve~" Italy replied, as the German quickly whipped around and crawled to the backseat. "Russia, you drive, I need to tend to Italy's wounds." He said trying to sound manly. "At least I won't kill us all." Russia said sassily as he pulled himself into the driver's seat. England stumbled to the back to join Germany when he quickly stopped him. "Wait, I need to grab the first aid kit." England stepped beck irritated. "I don't see why, your little Italian lover looks perfectly fine!" Germany let out a chuckle to England's snarky remark. "It's not for Italy, It's for you." He answered. England looked at him surprise. "I'm not hurt!" He argued, looking around his body for any signs of damage. He felt his chin and let out a little sigh. "Oh this? This is fine, I assure you I'm fine!" He drifted his finger over his chin to show it was nothing when Germany pointed to his ear, the traced down his side. England smiled and let out the best laugh he could. "Germany put you glasses on! Its mud!" the plane took a right turn up and England fell to his feet. He scrambled to the window, trying to catch one more glimpse of the USA. "England . . . it's not mud." German uttered, straining to get around England and into the back seat. "Then what exactly is it?" England replied smartly, wiping his ear to take a closer look. Germany's voice lowered, and he spoke almost as if he was feared saying these words. "It's blood."

England pulled back, his eyes wide with fear. It was true! Now that his eyes have focused, he could see the once brown liquid was a dark red. It dripped from his fingers smoothly, not like mud at all. England took a step back, trying desperately to find something to see himself. Germany opened up the kit, taking out a small emergency mirror held in the back. England quickly snatched up the mirror, and that's when he saw himself. That horrible moment he would never forget.

100 years later, 1:42am, England

England shook the image out of his head, pulling himself into the pilot seat. He would prefer to keep that certain memory hidden for good. The plane's engine let out a sickly roar before starting to keep a rhythm in the motor. England started it out on the runway, opening up his map. On the left corner he had circled his destination. He was going somewhere he hadn't seen for a while. England pulled up, the plane glided through the air. He cut through the sky, each turn pointing in one direction. America. He was heading back to the USA.

9:01am, America

A small plane cut over the air, the only noise that could be heard for miles. It landed in a soft patch of field, slowing to a stop. The passenger was quick to hop out, before letting out a sigh and sucking the sights in. This was the second place he found that wasn't destroyed. Around him were acres of soft grass; off in the distance was a large lake. Trees surrounded the field, and a few birds flew from their tree tops. Bees could be herd rummaging the flowers by the lake, and bull frogs made their place clear. England pulled out the map from his car, closing the plane door. He opened it to a large map of America, pulling out a pen and circling a state. There was another state circled, the top half of Maryland. As he shoved the map back into his pocket, he let out a sigh and said with glee, "So this is Virginia? Would you look at that . . . never thought this redneck state would make it!" England chuckled at his words before taking a walk around. He never knew such a small state could hold such beauty. Sitting down on a rock by the lake, he positioned himself into a laid back position. He'd always wanted to come here, just to think, but whenever he tried it always brought on too many memories. Memories that went for gentlemen, because gentlemen aren't supposed to cry. England let out a sigh, looking up at the sky. "How do I do it America? How do I make them remember something they've already forgotten?" England closed his eyes and let out a chuckle, feeling the warm sun beat down lightly on his face. "Really America, you of all people! I'd think that you'd at least want to go out with a bang!" The Brit was about to drift off into a pleasant light sleep when he heard a loud shuffling in the forest. He sat up quick, letting out a grunt of displeasure as he felt his gut sear with pain. As his eyes adjusted back to the light, he noticed a figure off in the distance. He quickly stood up, trying to get a better view. Sure enough there stood a small boy, staring at him as if he'd never seen another human. Of course, he probably hadn't considering where he was living. England took a few steps closer; the boy fell back, looking as if he was about to dart. "Wait! Just hold it there!" England shouted out, trying to get closer while not scaring him away. Finally he reached a spot where he could see him clearer. Just for a second his heart jumped, thinking it was America, before realizing his eyes were much different. His hair was almost a replica of America's; he even had the same cowlick and Nantucket. His face spoke a different story though. His eyes were an emerald green, a little lighter than his own, and his eyebrows were just as thick. It was creepy how thick his eyebrows were, if England didn't know better he would have thought they were his. England tried to get a closer look at what he was wearing, and even more what he was holding. He looked at the boy, and his heart skipped a beat. That jacket . . . there was no mistaking it! That jacket the little boy had on was defiantly Americas. And in his hand was a piece of paper, he held it tightly to him, holding it like it was dear life. England noticed that the jacket was the only clothing the boy had. It was zipped up tightly, and covered down to his calves. England took another step before the boy quickly jutted off. England let out a sigh before trying to let his brain catch up. He was so sure the last American had already passed . . . unless! England eyes grew wide. Unless he's a country! England let a grin cover his face as he raised his hand to sky shouting, "YES!" he sung a few words from the star spangled banner before literally screaming into the air with joy. "AMERICA YOU BLOODY GENUIS! YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT! YOU PROVED WHAT YOU PROMISED! IT WORKED!" England continued his prance around the meadow singing. Yes. England. The boy watched his weird dance form the safety of the forest, before hearing a strange noise ring out. England pulled out his phone. "Hello?"

"Euh! It's France! England something BIG just happened. You need to fly over here, NOW."


	5. A little French drama

Chapter fϋmf

France stood cornered against the wall, his heart beating the rate of a bird's. "Don't move. Don't even THINK of moving!" The husky voice snarled. The French flirt tensed up against the wall, sweating every ounce of liquid his body contained. "You stay here while I go wait for your mommy to arrive, then I want you to spill." A shadow fell on France, and then fallowed the man out the door. France let out a sigh of relief, soon cut short as a shrill voice rang from the corner. "Stupid! You're so stupid if you thought Brother wasn't watching you! You shouldn't have called your mommy! Brothers gunna' teach him, and you!" The shill voice was matched to a little girl emerging from the dark corner. "Brothers gunna' teach you!" She repeated, her voice lowering as she eyed the French man. France swallowed before trying to control his shaking knees. How stupid, to be afraid of a little girl! Yet, how can she be so scary! France thought, nibbling his bottom lip to shreds. The dark shadow fell over the room as the man entered back in, dragging the unconscious body behind him. "I found your mommy just in time!" The voice spoke, clicking on a small light. It shown over the man's bleach white hair, his purple dark eyes, and his long scarf. Russia smiled, shining the light over France, who was still huddled in the corner. Under the new lights France's ropes showed clearly. His hands were bound, and his legs were tied, ropes wrapping all the way up to his waist. He squirmed fearfully against the ropes, feeling uncomfortable under the shining spot light. Russia grinned, turning the brightness up before turning to the little girl. "Belarus! Go tie up that scone face as well!" Belarus smiled, and saluting cheerfully replied. "Anything for you Big Brother!" France watched in horror as Belarus dragged England's unconscious body to the opposite corner. "France! If you ever want to live, I would suggest you tell me who this is!" Russia stood inches from France, in one hand he held a sharp pipe, and in the other a picture. Squinting his eyes France got a better look at the picture. In it was a French spy, one of his best. "Why is he here?" Russia demanded his voice deafening. "Are you spying on me?!" France fell to his knees as Russia took a swing at his 'beautiful face'. "No! No I swear on my life! It's was a mistake!" He cried, snuggling his face into his chest as another swing threatened to show. However, Russia took a step back. Easing himself up, France noticed why. Off in the corner, Belarus laid lifeless on the ground. "Bella? Russia uttered, slowly approaching. He never saw the rake coming for his head, he never heard the blood curdling crack of his own skull being split open, and he never felt his body hit the floor as he laid out cold. England walked out of the dark, carefully stepping over the pile of blood oozing from Russia's head. "E-England!" France cried out, embracing the Brit in a hug. "Oh thank 'eavens Anglerette! I was so scared! I thought 'e was going to kill me!" England hugged the babbling France tighter, gently unraveling his ropes. "He didn't tie these well, if you loosened them now, why didn't you just escape git?" England asked, his eyes looking around for an exit. "'is stupid sister! Oh she really does scare me!" Replied the French man, stretching out his cramped limbs. "Whatever, let's get." England pointed to the door he spotted, pulling the shaking France out with him. The two hurried away, rushing into England's plane. The last thing heard before the plane's engine started was, "Anglerette? Are you still mad at me?" "No France, you were right all along."

Belarus woke to a major headache and a cold chill. As her beating eyes adjusted to the dark of the room, she made in her surroundings. The spot light swung in the cold draft, highlighting the shadows of the dark basement. She turned around to the snapped ropes that were meant for the idiot England. She let out a low growl realizing that he must have escaped and knocked her out. "Big Brother!" She cried irritably. "BIG BROTHER!" She cried louder, anger rushing through her veins. As she waited patiently, there was no sign of Russia. Picking herself up, she mumbled angrily under her breath. "Didn't even consider waking me up? Do you KNOW how cold it is down here?! What is WRONG with you?! I'm your sister for- emmph!" Belarus tripped over some ropes, falling on her already beaten up face. Turning around like lightning she let her rage out on the ropes. "WHAT WAS THAT?! YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?! YOU SICK SON OF A-" Belarus gave the ropes a hard kick, stopping mid wail as her foot made contact with a soft squish. "What?" She stuttered back, confusion filling her painful thoughts. Kicking it softly again, she gently leaned down. That's when the spot light swung in her direction, highlighting what weren't in fact ropes, but Russia's cold body, and a pool of blood dripping from it.

France sat on England's couch, sipping a cold lemonade and snuggling in a plush rope. Stroking its soft white fabric, he smiled over at the grouchy Brit. "Thanks again Anglerette, your robe is very comfortable!" England didn't reply to France's remark, instead he was focused on the window. For once it wasn't raining, and it was quite pleasant outside. Should I tell him? England thought, trying to clear his head as a headache was clearly on the brink. Should I tell him about what I saw? It might make it easier . . . "Anglerette?" France repeated, his smile turning to a frown of worry. England turned to face France, his eyes deepening in his thoughts. "Frog? Can I . . . tell you something?" The Handsome long haired man lit up like the sun, practically jumping up in joy. "Of course Anglerette! You can tell me anything!" Casting his eyes to the cabinet, England pulled himself up and walked over to it. He opened the lowest draw, and took something out. "Anglerette?" France tried pulling himself up, but England held his hand for him to sit. "France, promise I can tell you anything?" France smiled again. "Of course England." Opening his hand, England showed the piece of metal glimmering in it. It was the shard France had been so prominent about throwing away. France looked over confused as England walked back over and picked up his hand. "Then promise that you'll help me. Help me make them never forget America." He spoke, his eyes bearing into France's with hopefulness. The French man let out a sigh, before nodding. England laid the shard in France's hand. Sitting down, he leaned over to France. "America still has hope."

Belarus couldn't stop the tears from crashing down. She leaned on Ukraine's shoulder, trying to keep herself together. Ukraine gently stoked Russia's face, her own tears falling. "Sister! Sister we have to kill them! Sister…we can't let them j-just." Belarus stopped mid-sentence as more teas emerged. Her mouth moved but the only noises made were the small squeaks of her broken heart. "No. That's not how you fix your problems Belarus." Ukraine replied sternly. Just as she was about to make an argument, Belarus' words caught on her throat. "We need to leave him in peace." Ukraine concluded, picking up the fighting Belarus in her arms. "Let's just get a small nap in, your tired." Belarus let in, stopping her struggles and relaxing in her sister's arms. They walked out of the room, leaving the unconscious Russia on the bed. He was laid down gently, tucked into the covers. His head was bandaged by Ukraine, and he was dressed in his pajamas. Ukraine had rushed over as soon as she heard Belarus calling her in tears. She had pulled her brother up the stairs and into the tub before washing him off. He probably would never know, as it was Ukraine's way to say nothing, and leave when he has awoke. If he awoke . . . The one thing that still bothered Ukraine to no end was the never ending dread of what would happen if he didn't.

England closed his eyes as he felt the sun shine over his face. He snuggled closer to the soft seat, making sure to keep his face still shining sunlight from the window. France let out a "honhonhon" of amusement, watching the Brit cuddle up like a kitten. His amused laugh was swallowed up by the noise of the stopping motor. It let out a "huuurree" of struggle before puttering out. England sat up quickly, at first thinking it was a sign of something bad, but France assured him it was a perfectly normal thing. France was the first to exit the plane, followed by a slower England. They both looked around. "This is the place alright!" England yawned, stretching out his arms. France looked around, walking over to a glimmering lake. "Sure is pretty, if America had told me 'e 'ad places like this, I would 'ave visited more!" The Brit rolled his eyes before cupping his hands around his mouth and hollering. "Hello? Hey little boy? Are you here?!" France started to do the same.

The boy walked around his home, searching desperately for the root he desired. Letting out a gasp of satisfaction he leaned down to pick it. He stopped suddenly, as he heard the familiar sound of a plane come closer. "Is that strange man back?" He uttered to himself, walking cautiously towards the sound. As he made his way back to the field, he waited carefully on the edge of the forest. "I think I might say Hi!" he hoped excitedly, waiting to run out. A frown fell on his face as he saw a different plane land. Stepping back towards the forest, he noticed a stranger man hop out of the plane. The boy let his hand drift into his jacket's pocket, toying at the edges of a folded paper. He leaned to the ground as the stranger man was accompanied by the familiar Brit. Carefully, he edged around the forest, trying to get a closer look. Soon he could hear what they were saying. "I don't think he's here Anglerette!" "Nonsense! I saw him!" Are they talking about me? The boy wondered. He swallowed wondering if he should greet them. He gently stepped out of the bushes, being careful to approach the two men silently. Just as he reached talking range, he saw the French man lean down and scoop up the dirt. He mumbled something before scooping more out. The boy watched in horror as the man pulled out a small plant from the dirt, and tossed it aside carelessly. "Hey! What are you doing?!"

France scooped out the weed, tossing it aside. "Stupid thing, I really hate these types!" He mumbled under his breath. He stood up, dusting his hands as a voice squealed out behind him. "Hey! What are you doing?!" France spun around, to meet a small boy pointing angrily. "Get out of here! Stop hurting my home!" He yelled accusingly. "Bonjour ami, you've misunderstood!" France countered back, raising his hands innocently. The boy pointed at him, looking up accusingly. "Your French aren't you?!" France stepped back surprised. "Euh, yes, how did you know?" "I'm not silly!" The boy giggled, blushing a little and smiling. "You're funny mister!" England watched the boy carefully as he took his hand out of the jacket's pocket, revealing the edge of a paper poking out. England recognized the paper from his first visit. He must hold it when he's scared. England thought to himself, a little amused at the fact and a little curious too. Holding his hands up to France, the little boy giggled and demanded the French man to pick him up. Doing so, France grunted under the boy's weight. "emmph, you're 'eavy for your size!" For the first time the boy turned to England. "Who are you?" The little boy asked happily, holding tighter to France. "Uh, my name is England." England replied awkwardly, shifting his feet. He turned away, knowing who the boy had already chose. Suddenly he felt a little hand grab on his arm. "Please don't look so Grumpy Iggy!"

Time passed. But he didn't wake. Ukraine left the sound asleep Belarus, trying not to panache for her sake. She leaned over Russia, her tears falling on his eyes. "Please little brother, please wake up! For her sake!" She leaned in closer, gently kissing his cheek. "For my sake." When they were younger the three of them were so close, but she had drifted apart when she grew. Ukraine gave out a sigh as she leaned on the bed more, her head spinning. She clutched her stomach, trying to keep the threatening vomit down. She rushed to the bathroom, giving in to lurches. Soon after she passed out, right before whispering three words. "I'm sorry . . . Belarus."

England held the little boy tight, tears streaming down his face. They were back on France's plane. Soon they would be home, and England would take care of this little American. Smiling he stroked the boys hair as he giggled. "My daddy told me about you Iggy!" The boy pointed out, shining like the midday sun. France whipped his attention to the boy, almost losing control of the plane. "So that's how you know America's nickname for Anglerette!" England looked at France in confusion. "I'm sorry, did I miss something?" He asked sassily, making sure it was clear he didn't understand. "England! Don't you see?" England looked down at the boy who looked back at him, hugging him tighter with joy. "England, this is America's son!"


	6. Meet Hero!

Chapter sechs

"His name's Hero!" The little boy smiled, stroking the large cat. England smiled, starting to pet the cat as well. "Why Hero?" He asked, gently taking the cat into his arms. "Because that's what daddy was!" The little boy answered, smiling up at England. France stood on the other side of the room, preparing the cat's dinner. As soon as France turned to deliver his meal, he found himself stopped. "Thank you mama France for picking up my Hero! I really missed him!" The little boy said, taking France into a knee hug. France smiled, leaning down with the cat's dinner. "'ere ma Cherie, why don't you take this to Hero?" France offered the bowl to him, and he happily took it. "Iggy! Iggy look! Mama France made Hero some Dinner!" The boy shouted, his eyes lighting up. "Yes he did, didn't he?" England replied pulling himself off the floor as the cat sprinted towards his master. The little boy gently set the bowl down, and then he sat down on the floor beside it gently stroking its fur. "Hero you're so soft!" He declared, before laying his head down on the abnormally large cat's back. France and England met eye contact, mutually agreeing on what to do next. "Ma Cherie, would you like some dinner?" France asked, reaching his hand out. The little boy looked up happily. "Oh yes please Mama France!" He shouted, grabbing onto France's hand gently. "Alright then Ma Cherie! Let's go get cleaned up first!" France guided the little boy down into England's room. He gently took off the little boy's jacket, setting it down on the bed. France left the boy in England's room while he started the shower in the connecting bathroom. As soon as he came back, the little boy ran up and hopped into his arms. "Mama France! Mama France is that a waterfall?" He squealed, shaking badly. "Ma Cherie, no! It's a shower." France said, feeling the boy relax in his arms. "Sorry Mama France, I was scared I might almost drown again." France looked at the boy with confusion. "Drown?" The boy nodded, pulling himself down from France. "Once I was by a lake I used to wash by. The river above it had overflown and started a waterfall. I didn't know what it was, and I went under it. It dragged me under and I couldn't breathe!" France picked up the little boys hand, looking at him as his eyes filled with old fear. "Don't worry, the shower is safe." The little boy smiled again. "By the way Ma Cherie, 'ow do you know all these terms for your age? You look about five, 'ow do you know about waterfalls and over flowing rivers?" The little boy blushed and giggled. "Mama France! I'm not silly!" France let out a sigh. "Yes I know that, but with no one to teach you-" Suddenly the little boy tensed, his eyes focused on the shower. "M-mama France . . ." France looked down at his shivering body. "It's not scary, I promise." The boy nibbled his bottom lip. "Promise?" He asked, his innocent eyes meeting France's. "Promise." France replied, slowly leading him closer. They stood there for a little bit, before the little boy backed away. "I'm so sorry Mama France!" He cried, turning to run. "Wait Ma Cherie!" France said sternly, stopping the boys in his tracks. France began to undress himself while the little boy stood awkwardly. Finally when France was done, he came over and scooped up the little boy. "Ma Cherie, can we do this together?" The little boy didn't answer for a bit, and then a smile grew across his face. He wrapped his arms around France's neck. "Yes Mama France! I trust you!" He answered, happily holding onto France. Together they opened the shower door, gently slid in. "You okay?" France asked, holding the boy tightly. "Y-yes." He answered, snuggling his face in France's bare neck. France let out a sigh, and quickly shifted in and closed the shower door. He felt the boy grip tightly around his neck, whimpering in fear. France gently stroked his back, as cold drops fell over his warm skin. "Shhh Ma Cherie, it's alright, I got you." France whispered, trying to calm the boy down. The little boy replied with a scared voice. "I know all those terms because I found a school. It was burned but it still stood. I found all those history books, and I learned that my daddy was a country. I studied up to 6th grade, the highest text books I could find. I spent a hundred years alone. The first fifty I didn't know what I doing. I didn't eat, I didn't know how. Then Hero found me. I watched him eat, he lead me to food, to a clean river, to that school. All I had back then was my father's jacket and his letter to me. I was all alone. I'm so scared Mama France. I don't want to be alone anymore." The little boy shuddered, as France tried to comprehend everything he had said. "B-but, if you didn't eat for fifty years, how did you survive?" The little boy looked up, his eyes shuddering. "I don't know." France took his hand from the boys back, placing it on his now pounding head. "All this thinking . . . its giving me a 'eadache." The little boy looked up understandingly. "Maybe Iggy will understand. Then he can explain it to you better Mama!" The little boy smiled, but his eyes still looked sad. "Mon Cherie, what is wrong?" The little boy looked away. "I didn't want to tell you that . . . now you don't like me do you?" France looked at him and let out a small laugh. "Why do you say that?" France asked. The boy looked away ashamed. "I don't know . . . I just-" He looked up with tears in his eyes. "I just don't want you to leave!" He buried his face in France's neck again, tightening his grip on France's slippery skin. "Oh Ma Cherie! It's okay! No I won't leave you!" The little boy looked up, a happiness shining through his eyes. "I love you Mama France!" France smiled and hugged him tighter. "I love you too."

England was met in the living room with a naked boy running as fast as his little legs cold take him. "Er?" Was all England could utter as a very naked France followed. Many things ran through England's mind, but the only thing he could do to react was jump from the couch and follow. He ran straight after the trail of water, trying to catch up to France. Finally he caught a glimpse of French rear hustling up the stairs. He heard a faint yell from France. "Ma Cherie! Wait!" The yell was followed by a chorus of giggles. Finally England made out the figure of a man cornering the small boy. He stood back and watched as France scooped up the struggling boy and hoisted him over his shoulder. "What happened?" England asked, making France jump in shock. "Oh! Hon! Anglerette! Sorry, I was trying to find him some clothes when he made a run for it." The little boy started a chorus of giggles, before relaxing in France's arms. "Mama France? Can Iggy cook me dinner?" France let out an obnoxious laugh before stopping to utter, "Hon, oh wow, I don't think you want that." He replied, clutching his stomach with his free hand. "Why not?" The boy asked, looking at England curiously. "Um." England shifted uncomfortably. "Because France might be able to provide a more suitable meal." He answered, all pride leaving him. The little boy looked back disappointed. "France, can't you teach Iggy?" He asked. Suddenly France and England looked at each other in surprise. "Well I've never thought of trying that." England replied, thinking it over. France smiled, starting down the stairs. "Okay, we'll try it!" He said enthusiastically. "We will?" England asked, following hurriedly. "Yep!" France declared. England let out a sigh and gave in, then watched France carry the boy back into his room. When the two of them entered back out, the boy was wearing a small green t-shirt and spandex pants. "Anglerette, where did you acquire these again?" France asked, a little amused and a little worried. England blushed and started to cough. France kept looking at him, watching as England sighed. "Fine, okay, they were mine." France burst out laughing. "Honhonhonhon! I don't know which is better! The spandex or the pink boxers!" England felt his face turn red as both France and the boy burst into a fit of giggles. "Come on France, let's go make dinner." France smiled and followed. The little boy laid down on the ground as Hero came running up. "You're such a pretty kitty!" He said, kissing the cats head. The cat stood up to his waist, and up to France's knee's. He let out a meow, exiting the room and returning with a piece of paper. "Oh Hero, I know. I told Mama France already, I'll tell Iggy next. I hope they like me even though I know all those terms . . ." The cat let out a reassuring meow and snuggled close. "One day Hero, I'm going to be a big country just like Mama and Iggy! Then you're gunna' be my sidekick!" Hero let out a happy meow, licking the boy's cheek. "What would be my super hero name?" He asked, lost in thought. Suddenly he heard something drop near the front door. He waited for England and France to come check, but they stayed in the kitchen. Running quickly to the door, he saw an envelope, addressed to Mr. Kirkland. He looked at it, wondering what it was. He quickly ran into the kitchen to ask Iggy about it.

England sighed, watching France pull down the pans. "Tonight we make Buttery shrimp and pasta!" France announced. England sighed, "I'll put on the tea." France whipped around. "Oh no! You're helping me cook Anglerette!" He declared, pulling England next to him. England sighed, pulling the pan onto the stove. "Fine, teach me."

The little boy ran into the kitchen to ask Iggy about the letter, when he was meet by a terrifying sight. England was bent over the stove as it began to start fire, while France lay on the floor with a pan over his face. The boy let out a little squeak and held the letter tight to his chest. "I-Iggy?" he squeaked, slowly approaching the hysteric Brit. England turned around, his eyes meeting the boys with a crazy gleam. "Don't worry!" England cried, turning the facet on. He grabbed a bucket and quickly filled it up, before splashing it on the stove. Smoke filled the air and a loud sizzle sparked through the air. "Oh Bloody- NO!" England cried reaching to turn the stove off. A loud screeching filled the air as the fire alarms went off. The little boy ran out of the room, heading straight for the bedroom. He quickly hopped on the bed and snuggled under the covers. He felt warm fur join him as Hero hopped up on the bed beside him.

England quickly grabbed a chair and set it under the fire alarm. Reaching up, he pulled the batteries out and threw them on the floor. A grunt emitted from under the pan. "France?" England squeaked, hopping down and lifting the pan. "Anglerette . . . next time there's a fire don't panache and hit me upside the head with a frying pan." France uttered, letting out a little groan as he sat up. "Sorry Frog." England replied apologetically. France took a look around. "Euh, 'ow about I start to recook dinner?" England nodded, before looking around. "Um, I'm going to look around for the little guy, he took off when the alarm rang." France nodded as he picked up the charred pan, "oh wow."

The little boy shook under the covers. It was cold under the silky sheets, and fear rushed through his adrenaline. He felt something touch him and he screamed out terrified. "Shh! It's okay! It's Iggy!" England said, gently picking the terrified boy up. "Iggy! I thought you were a pedophile!" The boy whispered fearfully, wrapping himself in England's arms. England let out a chuckle and sat the little boy on the couch, letting him snuggle into the cushions. England noticed he was clutching a letter to his chest. "What is that?" England asked, and at the question the boy perked up. "Oh! Oh this is what I wanted to show you!" He cried out excitedly. "Look Iggy, it says 'Mr. Kirkland', who is that?" England took the letter, sighing as he saw it was his electricity bill. "It's me; my human name is Arthur Kirkland." The boy lit up, letting out a giggle. "You said that weird." England looked back confused. "I did?" The boy nodded. "Iggy! Your accent is so cool!" England smiled, puffing up proudly. France walked in to the living room, holding up the somewhat charred food. "I tried to salvage what I could, sorry Ma Cherie." The boy gladly took it and nomed' it up. England and France watched astonished as he quickly gulfed down the whole plate of Shrimp pasta. He let out a satisfying sigh before snuggling into the couch again. Hero jumped on his lap, licking the remains on the plate. Shivering cold, the boy looked up to England and France with a desperate look. "Mama France and Iggy, may I please have my jacket?" France nodded and went to get it. England sat down next to the boy, smiling. "I washed if for you, it should feel a little better on your body. Suddenly both the boy and the cat stopped moving, and almost simultaneously whipped their heads around to face England. The little boy stuttered out, "Washed, as-as in _with water_?" England nodded. "Is something wrong with that?" France entered back in, and the boy jumped off his feet, knocking the cat and the plate to the floor. Hero quickly landed on his feet and ran after the boy. The plate hit the ground with a loud "Chrrink" and rolled off before landing face down. Running up to France, the little boy shoved his hand in its right pocket. He moved his around before standing in pure shock. France awkwardly set the jacket around the boy. "Ma Cherie?" The little boy fell to his knees, tears starting to roll down his eyes. "D-daddy." Was all he could utter as he began to cry loudly. He crumpled in a ball, wailing the same thing over and over. "I'm sorry daddy, please make it better! I'm sorry daddy, please make it better!" England quickly rushed to his side, pulling him on his own lap. "Shh, it's okay! What's wrong?" The boy let out a few more sobs before he confirmed the words, "Daddy's letter!" England looked up at France confused, but the French man just sighed a breath of relief before exiting the room. "Wait France! What?!" England cried, trying to keep the boy from rolling off his lap and hitting the hard cold floor. France came back holding a folded piece of paper. He gently took the boy from England, and carried him to the chair. Setting the boy on his lap, he grabbed the boy's attention as he gently lifted his head so his eyes would meet his own. "Listen Ma Cherie, are you listening?" the boy nodded. "Do you think you can try to stop crying for me?" The boy nodded, and slowly stopped his whines, as only tears fell down his cheeks. Hero quickly jumped up on France's lap, snuggling up to the boy. "Okay, now give a 'ug and I can fix it, alright?" The boy nodded vigorously, giving France a long hug. "Okay Ma Cherie, is this what you were looking for?" Franc held up the piece of paper he had grabbed earlier. The boy took it happily, wiping his tears. "See? Not that 'ard." France said, hugging the boy one more time before setting him down. "Sorry Mama France, and thank you." The boy said before walking over to England. "Thank you Iggy! I love you!" England swallowed, not sure how to answer. Before he could the little boy opened the letter. "Here Iggy, I want you and Mama to read this." He handed them the letter, and they curiously opened it.

To who ever is reading this, my name is America,

This is my son, one day he will have a name. Only one other person will know it, and I hope that when he's ready, he will rule over America. I'm gone as you can tell; I've left with someone very old and very strong. I've left my son here, in Virginia. This area will not die, I can't tell you why, but I just know. I've given him my jacket, and I've left him a friend. The Feline's name is up to my son, and know that he is his. For you that are reading this, keep him safe.

To my son. My name is America, I am your father. I pray you will find this letter and will understand. I'm gone now, and you need to be strong. The cat will show you what to do. When you're old enough to understand he will come back, and he is always watching you. I've also sent Freedom, my eagle, to care for you. He may come and go, but he promised to keep watch over you. One day someone will find you, and you need to be polite. You know who you are, remember that no matter what, I love you.

England closed the letter, bowing his head in respect. "America, he was a hero." The boy nodded, smiling. "Sometimes I hear him at night, when I sleep. He hums a song to me if I'm scared. Wanna' hear it?" France and England nodded. The boy smiled and started to hum an all too familiar tune. England turned to the boy, tears in his eyes. "That's the star spangled banner." The boy giggled and yawned. "Iggy can I sleep with you?" England nodded, gently picking the boy up. "Goodnight Mama France!" He shouted to France as England carried him away. France smiled, "'ow in the world did you come up with 'Mama France'?!"

England gently laid the boy down and covered him back up. "Iggy, what about the other countries?" England frowned, sliding himself into the bed. "For now you're a secret. The others would hurt you, one day they'll know." The boy nodded understandingly, and laid his head down to sleep. "Good night Iggy, I love you." England inhaled fast and started to cough. Finally he caught his breath, and whispered back. "I love you too."

That's how the next few years went. The boy stayed in England home, a secret to the world. But then he grew, and little did they know the barren land of America wasn't so very barren anymore. And the nameless boy grew so fast. Ten years passed before it happened. He was ready. It was time to meet the countries. And that one day changed everyone's life's forever. You want to hear what happened? Well then I guess you'd better be ready for the next chapter. ;)


	7. First world meeting and a little ego

Chapter sieben

How are you supposed to work when you're constantly distracted?! The question popped into Germany's mind as he unhappily watched the excited Italian hop around the room. "Germany! Germany! Aren't you excited?!" Italy cried out, hugging himself with joy. "I don't see the fabulousness of this meeting Italy, honestly you're getting worked up over nothing." Replied Germany, keeping his tone grim. Truthfully he was a little curious too. It had been going around that there was a new member joining the meeting today. England was supposedly bringing him, and France seemed to have started the rumor. "Italy, you know it's practically impossible for a new country to come into existence without a war! We've been war free for the past 30 years!" Germany reminded Italy, however the Italian just burst into a fit of giggles. "Germany! What if England found him on the last war between him and Norway? You know, the Metallum War?" Italy replied, and Germany quickly remarked, "Yes Italy, we all know." Iy had been no hidden fact that back in the year 2064, Norway and England had a sort of falling out. It had all started when Norway starting cutting back on his metal trades, and in return a sort of cold war started between him and England. Before anyone knew it Norway spiraled into a fit of rage and cut all supplies with England. In return England declared he would conquer the country. Both ended up making no progress, and lost at least fifty men each in the little war spirals. Now England and Norway won't even talk to each other, little alone start trading again. "Italy, I seriously doubt any country could have been made from that little spur." Germany answered, picking up his files for the meeting. Italy replied with a disappointed grunt before following Germany out the door.

Countries came in one by one, each taking their seat. Once again the meeting would be held in Germany. The country itself had grown in great beauty and sightseeing. All the countries agreed it was quite fun to tour around once the meeting was over. Germany let out a sigh as he saw a certain country take his seat. France had walked in so calmly today, perhaps today was the day they could get something done? Germany's ray of hope was quickly smashed as he saw the other countries. They were huddled in a group, whispering about the rumors they had heard. "I heard that he was a break off of England himself!" Hungary whispered, clutching her hands tight together with a longing hope. "No way! I heard that he's nowhere near England!" Prussia replied, his eyes scanning over the huddled crowd. "I don't care where he is, I'm just curious why now to show his face!" Turkey whispered making his voice sound dramatic as others nodded their head in agreement. "SIT DOWN." Germany cried, trying to catch the gossiping group's attention. His eye caught France's, who only smiled before watching the door. He's waiting. Germany realized, watching as France kept his eyes on the door. Germany shook his head, nonsense! It's just rumors! "Everyone! Hey!" Helplessly watching as the gossip group only increased in volume, Germany did what he knew best. "HINSETZ IHR DUMKOFTS!" The sound of scary German quickly turned the heads of the group, each quickly taking their seat. Italy was the last to take his seat, as to the German's displeasure, it seems he was at the center of the gossip. When the eager Italian took his seat Germany announced the situation. "The World Meeting will be start in 5 minutes."

Every country was on the edge of their seats. It was three minutes until the meeting started now, and the center of their gossip had not yet arrived. England was not yet here. Italy was the first to break the tense silence. "Germany, what if England's late?" He asked, looking at the door. "He has been late before, but I don't see why we shouldn't start the meeting as normal." Germany replied, casting his eyes to the door as well. As he turned his head he caught a glimpse of France. He was still starting at the door, his mouth in a displeased frown. Perhaps he was just daydreaming, but this silence was very unusual for him. "France." Germany barked, waiting for him to turn around as normal, smiling with sparkles dancing in his eyes. However, the French man stayed staring at the door, and replied softly. "Germany, they're here." With a 'Ve' of glee, Italy hopped up from his seat. "France! France is England here?!" France's frown quickly turned into a satisfied smirk, and he leaned back in his chair. "Ohonhohnohon, cutting it a little close, isn't he?" Germany looked between France and Italy desperately, trying to understand. Surely he couldn't be talking about the rumor? Just as Germany closed his eyes to think, a small gasp came from the room, and then a thick silence followed. Germany slowly opened his eyes, curiosity and fear filling him. What would he see? Were the rumors true? His eyes slowly focused, and he saw France in front of him. Suddenly he realized France was watching him closely, waiting for him to see. Carefully, he let his eyes trail up. There in the door way stood England. England was watching him too, and out of the side of his eye he could see the other countries were doing the same. Germany clutched his hand nervously, following England's arm with his vision. He saw that England was holding a hand; it was a little smaller than the other's. This was it. Germany looked for the first time to what was at England side.

He was just a boy. Germany fell back in surprise, and he watched France laugh a little at this. He looked about sixteen, maybe younger. He was tall although. He towered a little over England, at least 5'9. His hair was a blond copper, a little lighter and redder than the English man beside him. Germany met the boy's eye contact and the boy blushed and looked down. His eyes were an emerald green, and they seemed to have a certain French sparkle in them. One thing that caught Germany's eye was his eyebrows. Just like England's they were big and bushy, but his were a little more refined than the Brits. Trying to catch his eye again, Germany noticed what that he was shaking nervously. His eyes were cast down ward and his face was a dark red. Italy stood up, seeing what Germany had just seen. "Hello there! What's your name?" Italy asked, but the boy only let out a small whimper and buried his face into England's side. Italy stepped back and tried a softer approach. "Sorry, would you like to take a seat next to me?" At this the boy looked up, and stepped forward cautiously. "Yes please." He answered. Every country looked at each other in confusion. His voice was steady and firm, and smooth as it was loud. The accent it carried no one could place. It wasn't quite British, wasn't quite French, wasn't close to German or Italian . . . Almost . . . "This way!" Italy sang happily leading the new country to his seat. He looked bashfully around the room, his face still red. "Here you go!" Italy declared, pulling out a chair. "Thank you mister." They boy replied, lowering himself into the seat. His eyes quickly darted back to England, and he watched as England made his way a few seats away. It was clear the boy was very uncomfortable, and most the countries looked away.

America's son's Point of view

I can only sit and watch as the man in the front speaks. He's talking, but I can't make out a word. It's because I can only focus on Iggy. I keep my eyes on him, hoping the meeting will end soon and I can crawl over to him. I really want to just go home, I want to crawl back in bed and never have to see any of these countries again. This morning when I woke up, I was so excited to come here. It was my first meeting, and I wanted to make an entrance. I was going to show them who I was, I was going to blow their minds. But instead of walking in and taking their breath away, I could only stand there scared. I don't know why I get shy like that, I usually only do it when I'm around Queen Elizabeth. "Any other questions?" I hear the man in the front ask, and hope rises inside of me. I let my hand unclench the table, not even knowing I was gripping it for dear life. I can feel the heat in my face start to return, as another pair of eyes looks over to me. At first I thought these world meeting would be long and boring, but to my surprise it was over in ten minutes. I glance around the room for the first time, and I notice the clock in the corner. I let out a small gasp as I realize I've actually been here for forty five minutes. "This was a short morning today, but seeing as you all are so eager to meet the new face, I'm ending it early." I blush again, realizing that the man in front was talking about me. Before I know it every country is quickly on their feet and slowly shuffling towards me. I close my eyes, wishing I was home. I feel myself start to clam up again and I look back down to my legs. I try to focus on my feet, but the noise around me is coming closer. Feeling a cold breeze, I look up to see someone's face in mine. "Erah!" I shout startled, before quickly standing from my chair. I look to my right to see a familiar face shining at mine. "Mama France!" I cry, running into his arms. Surprised he opens them and gives me a light hug. "Mon Cherie!" He cries back, before letting me go. I was also excited about seeing Mama France today. He's been gone for three months for some treaty issues. I reluctantly let go of him, and step beside him. He turns to face the room, taking my hand and leading me to the front. "Everyone!" He shouts out, even though most of their attention was already on him. "I want you to meet America's son!"

The room went silent. Now the man who was at the front of the room is advancing towards me. He stands awkwardly in front of me, trying to decide what to do. "Guten Tag. My name is Germany." He says, reaching his hand out. I look up to France who is now leaving my side. I want to chase after him, but Germany is standing front of me waiting for my reply. "Hello Germany." I say politely, taking his hand and shaking it. Something comes across his face, before he smiles. "That jacket." He says, letting go of my hand and pointing to it. "Oh? It was my fathers." He smiles and nods. "I know. He always wore that old thing." I let out a polite laugh and slowly back away. He notices and turns around, letting me go chase after France. Before I can do anything someone else is in my way. I recognize him as the nice guy from earlier, and I let my body relax. "So what's your name?" He asks, giving me a big smile. I uncontrollably turn my head, and I make eye contact with Germany. I feel my face turn redder, and I look down. "I don't know." I reply. Honestly I've never had a name. Iggy told me that when I'm older I'll get one. I'm 15 in human years now, even though at the moment I feel like a total baby. "Mine's Italy!" The man declares, and then holds his hand to the air. "PASTAAAAA!" He hollers softly, dragging it out. I start to giggle, and then an idea sparks in my mine. "ROOT BEER!" I cry with him. Mine isn't as soft, but it still did the job. I hear Italy start to laugh. "I'm going to call you Divertente! It means funny in Itailian!"He tells me, letting out another loud laugh. I smile and let out a laugh. "Then I'm going to call you Comedian. It means funny in my language." I wink and laugh while Italy bursts into a fit of giggles. "Hey everyone! That's his name! Divertente!" shouts Italy, twirling at the mere mention of the word. "Don't be absurd." Someone from the crowd says, stepping forward. He's holding a tea cup in his hand, and he slowly sips it before talking again. "My name is Austria." He tells me, before taking another sip. "He needs a real name. Not an Italian word." He remarks, letting a smirk trail along his face. I already don't like him, just from the way he's looking at me. I feel bad for thinking this, but it soon fades away as I hear him mutter something about an idiotic Italian. "I don't mind! I like it!" I declare, almost challenging him. I raise my chest so that I'm up to my full height of 5'10. I let a daring smile cross my face and let out a loud laugh. I feel my confidence rise and I step onto the chair. "Or you could call me America!" I cry out, shocking some of the more innocent bystanders. Germany seems to instantly become annoyed, as he shouts out for me to sit down. I obey and my confidence shrinks back down. Germany walks over to me, clutching his forehead irritated. "Please tell me you're not like your father!" He snaps at me. It's clear that every curiosity he had about me drops of the face of the earth. I gulp, and then another idea comes to me. I've already ruined myself, so why not try it. I stand up, coming up to his forehead. I look him in the eyes, and then turn so everyone can hear me. "Sorry about that, you can say I get that from my American. You see, I am indeed America's son. Sometimes I am quiet and shy and sometimes I am loud and confident. Sometimes I act like French man, but I'm refined like a Brit. I will obey if you command mister Germany, and I am eager to learn from you. I am American. I am French. I am British. And one day I wish to be German as well!" I turn to Italy and point as his happy face. "And Italian!" I look over to Austria and point at his turned head. "And Austrian!" He turns surprised, I can't tell if he's pleased or mad, but either way he turns back around. "One day." I declare, standing tall. "I want to learn from all of you!" Germany smiled, before quickly hiding his pleasure. He started to walk away, before talking to me one last time. "Missed you America."

England drove down the street as fast as he could. He heard the boy in the back crying. "Calm down! It wasn't that bad!" He said, trying to cheer him up. "I SOUNDED LIKE A COMPLETE CHILDISH IDIOT!" The boy cried back, his crying growing louder. England let out a sigh. What he did back there was definitely strange, but half of him had enjoyed the show. It was about time another big headed ego took America's place. He heard the boy sigh in the back, before calming down. "Iggy, I want to be called Alfred Jr." He said, and England could only let out a chuckle. "Why that? I thought you wanted them to call you America!" England heard another scream come from the back seat followed by a head slam against the window. "Dangit Iggy! Why did I do that! I couldn't even think strait! I know they think I'm an idiot! Agg!" England heard another head slam against the window. "I-Iggy. You know I'm not like that right? That I'm really sweet and helpful and not such a . . . such a COMPLETE BIG HEADED IDIOT?!" The boy screamed before giving back into tears. "You know it was a lot harder for me. I never had anyone to look after me. They didn't introduce them self's, they went straight to kicking me around. Same with Italy." England replied to the back seat drama. The boy stopped crying and replied quickly. "Italy? No way! He's so nice!" England shifted in his seat. "So why Alfred Jr.?" He asked, trying to avoid painful conversations. "Because dad's name was Alfred! I want to be Alfred Jr.!" England pulled into the airport. "Ready for your next world meeting Alfred Jr.?"

"What!? I have to embarrass myself again?!"

"This one's just an Allie meeting. Try to be awesome again, okay?"


	8. Canada break down

Chapter acht

You try sitting in a plane for eight hours and tell me how you feel! I could barely feel my legs after sitting in one for five hours, little alone the sixth now. "Iggy! I can't feel my body!" I cried, raising my voice to show enthusiasm. "shh, were in a public plane this time, you don't want to wake everyone, do you?!" The Brit replied, shifting uncomfortably as he looked around in case anyone heard. "Sorry", I answered looking around as well, "I don't think anyone heard." England let out a little sigh of displeasure as he shifted back into his seat. I watched as he closed his eyes planning to take yet another nap. Shifting in my seat, I turned my head as I heard a small whisper. In front of me stood a flight attendant, offering me some kind of drink. "Er, sorry what?" I asked her awkwardly. "Would you like something to drink?" She asked again, guiding my attention to the cart. "Um sure, thank you. Do you have, uhm, any sprite?" Nodding, she picked up a can and poured it into a small cup with ice. Handing me the cup, she set the half empty container on the pull out table in front of me. "Thanks", I muttered, taking a sip from the small cup. I waited for the lady to leave, but instead she said something and pointed the England. "What?" I asked her awkwardly again. "Does the passenger beside you want anything?" She pointed again the England before shyly bringing her hand to her side. I blushed as we made eye contact, before turning to England. "Stahp." He mumbled as I gently shook him. The flight attendant laughed before reaching over herself to wake him. Grumbling a bit he finally opened his eyes, then did something I never seen before. He blushed and awkwardly said. "Oh wow." Opting for a ginger ale, the flight attendant left, and I could only quietly giggle at England's red face. "How much longer? Check your watch." He asked, taking another sip of his soda. Looking down I answered, "It's eight am." England nodded in approval. "One hour left until an Allies meeting. You excited?" Fear and nervousness flooded into my veins. I didn't want to ever see another country again, and only a day after that horrible meeting I'm headed to another. "Will Germany be there?" I asked, hoping I could talk to him normally. "No, he's part of the Axis." England replied, taking the half-filled can and pouring the rest if the ginger ale in his cup. I've heard of the axis before, I knew that Japan and Italy were in it, and now I guess Germany. "So where are we headed again?" I asked, trying to decide whether or not to lay my head of England's shoulder. "Canada." He replied, watching closely. "Are you okay?" he asked moving uncomfortably. "Who's Canada?" I asked quickly, shifting my eyes from his shoulder back up to his eyes. "Canada, um. Well he's… ummm. He's located above America." England replied, still watching me closely. "Really? No way!" I cried, trying to break the awkward atmosphere. "Here I'll show you." Pulling out his carry on England grabbed a map out. He laid it on the pull out table and pointed to the top left side. "Where's America?!" I asked excitedly. I haven't seen dad's country since I was little. I'm pretty sure it's a little smaller then Iggy's. "Look its right here." He pointed to a large continent, and I looked around confused. "What?" England pointed at the continent again, and then traced out a shape with his finger. "Wait . . . that's America?!" I cried, gasping in surprise. "B-but that's huge!" England nodded then rolled his eyes sarcastically. "No need to brag. Haven't you ever wondered why you were so tall?" He asked, looking at me again. "Dad was this tall at my age? Woah!" I cried happily. England let out a sigh, before shaking his head in disagreement. "No, honestly I thought he was going to be way shorter than me, then he started getting taller and teller, then in 1867 he got his real growth spurt." I let out a little sigh, and relaxed back into my seat. "We have fifty minutes left." I replied, trying to get feeling back into my legs. England grunted something before closing his eyes. I tried to make out what he said. It wasn't until the lights dinged and the plane started it's decent towards the station before I finally figured it out. "Wait . . . Canada? No way, Iggy! Did you say Canada's my uncle?!

Canada paced nervously around the room. He had checked everything the night before, and even the night before that. Everything had to be perfect; everything had to look just right. It had been so long since a meeting took place in Canada, and he had to make sure it wasn't going to happen again. "I can't believe it! They're finally noticing me! Now that Americas gone, the confusion is gone! I'm a country everyone knows! Even if this is just an Allie meeting!" Though he had never admitted it, part of him was glad that America had passed. Ever since then he stopped getting beat up, people stopped confusing him with that big headed country, and now some countries even knew his name. He kept these thoughts hidden inside his head, hoping that no one would open them. He didn't want to think about it, he didn't want to admit he even thought of it. Whenever they came into his head, he would run into his room. Sometimes he would just look at the mirror in there, asking over and over, "Am I glad? Am I?" Then strait after he would break into tears. Once there was a time when he loved his brother, but soon when he started causing the other pain, Canada lost all love. "America . . ." Canada uttered, before the doorbell rang and brought him back to sanity. "Someone's arrived? They're an hour early!" Canada rushed to the door, his nerves causing him to shake tremendously. I hope they like it! He thought, before slowly opening the door. "Hello? . . . Oh. It's you."

I looked at the slightly ajar door, wondering who was behind it. Must be old. I thought, watching as the door seemed to tremble itself. Looking up to England, I watched him look at the door with a familiar glance. Whoever was behind that door, England clearly knew. "Hello?" A voice squeaked out. It's a girl! I concluded smiling as I watched England wave. England must like her or something. I thought, laughing to myself. The girl clearly knew him too, as she replied, "Oh. It's you." England nodded and took a step inside. It was strange though, her voice went sort of deep at the end. As I took a step inside, I knew why. Before me stood not lady of any sort, but a young man. He had hair that resembled my own, but instead of a Nantucket he had a long curl. He had glasses, a warm coat on over a navy blue suit, and a silver watch shone on his wrist. I took a step back, noticing he was shivering and his eyes looked around nervously. "Uhm sorry, is something wrong mister?" I asked, backing out the door. "Oh no sorry, come in." The man replied his voice sounding female and soft once again. I nodded and walked in, looking around for England. "Iggy?" A voice replied from a far distance, "Over here." Looking around I spotted the Brit sitting in one of the chairs of a large table. I joined him, and watched as the nervous man sat across from me. "Hello, what's your name?" he asked, smiling softly. I could barely make out what he said, but I replied never less. "My name is, uh, well I don't really have a name." England made a short cough, before taking his own turn talking. "He wants to be called Alfred Jr." The man nodded and looked at me, narrowing his eyes accusingly. "You know, you really should have told me about_ it_." He said, looking back at England. "We didn't want anyone to know before he could defend himself, I didn't want him to go through what I did." England answered, his voice keeping steady but raising a little. "He has an army then? Strong army like America's?" The man asked, lowering his tone as if to show he didn't want to fight. "No, he has no people, little alone an army." England said, worry in his tone. "Of course, I forgot. He's America son right? America is destroyed along with all Americans." The other replied, his voice shaking. Whether out of anger or fear I couldn't tell, perhaps both. "They'll come back when he knows who he is. Just wait, even if we've lost America we can still have someone to carry on where he left off." As I looked at the man waiting for him to reply to England, I saw something cross his face clearly. England saw it too. Fear. He was scared. Was he scared of me? "America is gone." He answered, his soft tone turning sharp. Yes, he was scared. He was scared of losing something, but I couldn't tell what. England gently laid his hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes, and then into Canada's he replied softly, "I know he's gone. This is your nephew Canada, he depends on you. He's a little part of your brother." I never heard England talk like this, and part of me was amused. He almost sounded like a mother trying to comfort a baby, and the baby would just spit up anytime she said anything. I laughed inside, and then it finally hit me. What England just said, this man? England just called me his nephew, which meant. "Canada?"

Alone. That's what I felt. Alone, and cold, and worried. After I found out who that man was, Canada, he stood up and threw the chair. He looked so upset, as if someone had just stabbed him in the heart. He started screaming at England. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID?! I LOVED HIM, HE WAS MY BROTHER. HE TORE ME APART." England stood up after that, as a maid ran into the room. England pushed me towards her, and she took me by the arm and ran out the door. She kept apologizing, saying whenever he got upset, he was just nervous that's all. I knew he was nervous, just front he way he was shaking at the door. She sat me down in a room. Now here I sit on the bed, staring at the blue walls around the room. Each one is painted differently, each one a different shade. The carpet is a light blue, and the trim is neon green. It was weird, but it seemed to fit. Glancing at my watch, it would be another twenty minutes before the meeting started, and the lady would take me back down stairs. I'd been sitting here bored for a while, trying to work things out in my head. I turned over onto my belly, tracing the head board of the bed with my finger. It was engraved, and I traced the word over and over. Frist there was a curly C, and I traced it with ease, then an A, then a N. Another A, then the next letter was a littler trickery, D. Then finally another A. Weird, I thought, that there were so many A's. Wait a second. C.A.N.A.D.A. . . . Canada! Jumping to my feet, I looked at the head board from a distance. Canada, as plain as day was engraved in the head board. Could this be Canada's room? I have to find out more, but what if the maid comes in when I'm looking around? There's still about twenty minutes left, perhaps ill just take a peek. Carefully opening the door, I confirm that there's no maid on the other side. I close it softly and rush over to the dresser. Clothes, clothes, clothes, clothes, that's all that I could find. Closet, dresser, night stand, all contained the same thing. Clothes. Defeated, I relaxed against the dresser, opening the top drawer one more time. Tracing the wood with my finger, I admired the craftsmen ship. This drawer was different than the rest, as it was out lined in metal. Tracing a little lower, my hand hit something hard. Curious, I moved the clothes laying on top out of the way, revealing a book beneath. I took it out, dusting off the cover with my hands. It had the word 'Journal' traced in slightly, worn down from time. I opened it to the first page. The handwriting was young, and hard to read.

_"I am so happy today! France bought me this journal. He says that if I stay with him, I can keep it!"_

I looked at date, and couldn't make out the scribbled lines. Flipping a little farther, I could finally make out the handwriting clearly.

_"I met with big brother America today! France says I can see him whenever I like. He lives with England, but England says he doesn't mind. America seems really nice; he always wants to help me. He says one day me and him are going to grow up to be the best countries ever. I can't wait to see my big brother again! Maybe we can play chase again!"_

I smiled as I read about America. I wonder why England always told me he was annoying, Canada makes him sound nice. I flipped closer to the middle of the book; skimming a few entries until I found one that caught my eye.

_"Apparently a few countries are mistaking me for America! I don't really mind, it's kinda' funny! I learned America just broke free from England today, I really want to visit him. Not only help him get through this, he seems a little down, but I want to discuss about how he's been acting. He seems a little different, and I want to make sure he's okay. I'm pretty sure it's just a stage he's going through, maybe a little depression? Anyways, he's really acting up. He was starting to tell me not to worry the 'hero's here'. He's really got an ego now, hopefully it's just his way of rebelling. Now that it's over I'm sure he'll be fine . . . one thing that really bothered me though . . . he forgot my name. He keeps having trouble remembering, in fact he totally forgot who I was. I'm worried about him, he's changing."_

I look over the entry, making sure I get everything the way it was intended. I never knew dad rebelled against England, little alone England raised him. Maybe England didn't want to talk about it for that reason, either way I don't know if I should mention it. He'd want to know where I found out and there's no way I'm admitting to snooping in Canada's drawers. I flip to the middle, opening to a page that looked older than the rest. Looking closer, I realized it was only because it was wrinkled. "It looks like he was wet when he wrote it; he dripped water all over it." I mumbled to myself, reading the first line. I look at the first sentence and my heart drops.

_"I hate America so much! I got beat up by Turkey today! He thought I was America and beat me up! Every time I talk to him he just brushes me off and forgets about it. No one knows who I am! I thought we were going to be together, even to the top! Apparently as soon as his big ego inflated after his stupid rebellion, he just forgot about me. Like everyone else! I hate him! I hate him I hate him I hate him! Why is he doing this to me?!"_

I shift uncomfortably. Canada really hates America, is that why he hates me? But why did dad start doing that to him? I still don't know, but maybe . . . I flip to the latest entry, it's about ten days ago.

_"America is dead and I'm happy. That's all I can think. I wish he wasn't, I wish he was here, to protect me, to be here with me. But he's gone, and I'm happy. I don't know why, is it because people know who I am now? Maybe because I'm being recognized as a country, because I'm going to be a super power soon? Am I happy because now I have more friends, more people who want to allie with the great maple country? Or is it because I lie to myself? I tell myself that he still here, he's still waiting. Half of me knows he's dead. He's gone and I know he's not coming back. That half laughs; it consumes me, and makes me so glad he's dead. Because I can be the new America now. But the other half, the true Canada, it's still waiting. Its waiting for America just to stroll in with his happy smile, say "sup bro? I'm hungry, got any of your boss maple pancakes?" That half wishes I could smile at him and tell him how much I love him. He's my brother, and no matter how much he changes he'll always be it. My brother. My big brother. A long time ago, he told me he would be there. Together we would be the biggest best countries in the world. Together. Now I'm alone. America, where are you? I'm waiting. I'll always wait for you."_

Of course. Now I know why he's scared. I close the book, and slide it back under the clothes. I sit back on the bed, and for the nest ten minutes I just stare up at the ceiling, thinking about Canada. They lady comes back, and apologies and leads me down stairs. That's when I see him. The once nervous Canada meets my eye. We look at each other, and I see what I didn't before. He's not scared . . . he's waiting.

The tension in the room is unbearable. France is leaning back on his chair, swirling around and on it. Despite what most countries say, it is quiet fun to sit in swirl chairs. The French looks around the room, careful watching Russia again. Russia had his eyes on A.J.; A.K.A 'Alfred Jr.' Russia was studying the boy, trying to decide whether or not he should kill him. Obviously not in front of everyone, just simply put him on the list. A.J. stood still, carrying on a brave mentality. He and Canada kept making eye contact, and each time slowly became longer. He made contact again, right as Canada was introducing his idea for a treaty between him and Ukraine. The Canadian's voice shook, and as much as he wished he could look away, he kept contact. Soon his voice faded away, and he only could look into A.J.'s eyes. He began to shake, and none of the countries could figure out why. However, the brave boy knew exactly why. He looked in his uncles eyes, trying to tell him what he tried to say every time their eyes met. It was finally getting through_. I know_. "Um, Canada, can we please continue?" England spoke up, breaking the contact between the two. "Oh yes, I'm sorry England, uhm, that's all I suppose, anyone else can take the floor. "Canada took a seat across the boy, making sure not to make eye contact. France stood, his usually happy voice filling the room. He started to talk about food and enterprises as Canada stood up. "I'm going to grab a drink." He said softy to England.

This was my chance. There's no other time. I stood up softly, trying not to break the atmosphere. England didn't notice, but as I turned I noticed Russia watching me. He smiled before looking away. I breathed a sigh of relief, silently walking hurriedly out of the room. I rounded the corner, seeing Canada. He wasn't getting water, but instead looking out the window_. Waiting_. The word came back into my mind, and I slowly approached him. He turned slowly, and we both made eye contact. He stood a little taller, trying to shoe his dominance. It didn't matter, as I stood a little taller than him anyways. "New America. That's probably your name. There, now you can have your people come back and build an army." He said coldly, turning back to face the window. Of course, what did I expect? Him to tell me how he really feels as soon as he sees me? Standing a little behind him, I slowly traced my foot along the floor board. "C. A. N. A. D. A." I said softy, making sure each letter stood out. "Canada. That's how you spell it. I found it on the head board of your bed." This caught his attention, and I could see his eyebrows twitch in curiosity. "The top drawer, it's lined with metal." He turned his a little, his eyes narrowing accusingly. "It's lined because the drawer is special. It needs to be remembered; because it holds something that you should never forget." At this he turned around, facing me and looking straight into my eyes. He knew I knew, and he wasn't happy. I tried not to step back, but I could feel my fear coming through me. I continued never less, thought my voice shook . "I found a book. It told me what you're afraid of. You're afraid of me. Not because of who I am, but because of who I could be." He looked at me, his fierce mentality slowly fading away, and his eyes shook. "Half of you is scared because if I become like America, you'll lose the fame that you're gaining. Things will go back to the way they were. You getting picked on, and no one knowing your name. Then the other half of you, the real half, is afraid because if I take over America, if live out his legend, America won't come back. Because then your waiting will never cease. Because then you'll know Americas not coming back." I looked into his eyes, and they closed as a tear ran down his right eye. As they both opened, I saw a sight that caused me to shiver. One eye was happy, tears running down it, and the other was not wet, but had a fierce glow. It was as if Canada was split in half. Two side in one body. I swallowed, and finished what I had started. "C.A.N.A.D.A., it's how you spell Canada. It's how your spell the country who was forgotten and lost. It's how you spell one of the greatest countries in the world. It's how you spell my uncles name. Canada." With that I rushed forward, and embraced him in a tight hug. I felt him struggle for a second, then his arms wrapped around me. I felt a drop of water hit my shoulder. I remembered that page, the on that was wrinkly and old, it wasn't that he was wet. He was crying. Looking up I see both his eyes now wet, both sides crying. I hug him tighter, and he does the same. "Why did he leave me behind? Why did he forget me?" He uttered, his voice losing control and soon became into a burst of sobs. He struggled to keep his voice down, until he could only whimper. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out. I promise, when I find out I will tell you." I answered, looking him in his eyes. He smiles, and then shakes his head. "No, you can't. If you promise you'll just forget." He says, his voice slurring as he once again struggles to keep from sobbing. "No, I'll never forget you." I reply, giving him a big smile and a French wink. He nodes, then looks at me waiting for something to reassure him what I say Is true. "C.A.N.A.D.A!" I say happily, trying to lighten the tone. He wipes his eyes, even as the tears still pour down. "Go back in the room, I'll be there shortly. And don't forget. Don't ever forget" I nodded and left the room. I slid back in my chair, telling England I had to use the restroom. I won't forget Canada. And I'm going to find out what happened to dad. And I know just where to start. I look over to England, who happily smiles back.

It's time to learn about the revolutionary war.


	9. stolen, wolfs, and trama

Chapter neun

Walking for hours, his feet ached. It had to be here, if only he could remember from all those years ago. Collapsing on the ground, he clutched his side tightly. Pain seared through his body, and he let out a scream into the quiet sky. The sun fell down on his skin, and seared through his already burnt skin. Uttering a moan, he let his body collapse on the forest floor. He closed his eyes, and then when all he could see was darkness, he opened them one last time. Red oozed onto the grass and dirt. His blood spilled from his side as his wound tore open more. Gasping for air was all he could do, as everything that happened flash back into his mind.

It was a warm sunny day, a few clouds drifted through the sky and the pavement of the road seared with a burning heat. A.J. came flying across the street on his skate board. He pulled up and rolled his wheels across the side of the sidewalk. With a quick kickoff he jumped off his board, landing in the middle of the street. He swerved quickly around the turnoff, and did a quick jump off, spinning his board before landing back on it. Above him the sound of a plane roared closely. "Woah, is it going to crash?" A.J. Muttered to himself, his eyes landing on a helicopter flying only a couple hundred feet above him. Going on, he followed the copter, watching with fascination as it slowly came closer and closer to the ground. Before he knew it he was right under it, his speed reaching it's only in a matter of time. It was slowing down, and out of nowhere a piece of metal fell from the sky. He could only look up before the hunk of broken metal flew down upon his body. It hit A.J. right on his forehead temple, before knocking him off his board. He fell to his feet, closing his eyes tightly while sweat seeped into his eyes. "What was that?!" He cried, wiping the sweat from his eyes. He could barely see as the world spun around him, his eyes could no longer hear the motor of the copter, and his eyes became dark and glossed over. He struggled to keep conscious as he looked at his sweaty hand. It was covered in blood, and more of it dripped down his forehead again. Dropping onto the burning pavement, he passed out. Out of the dark a man walked over to his unconscious body. Picking up the skateboard, he left the boy and waved his hand slightly over his head. The falling plane turned around and gently landed on the ground close where the man had been only seconds ago. The man nodded to the plane before leaving the area and adjusting his tie.

"Sir, He's secured." Someone said, pacing across the floor of the plane. "Good, close the main door and prepare for takeoff." Another replied giving a good light laugh before a door slid shut. Whispers admitted before the plane's motor started up. Around him was a small room with navy blue walls and a purple carpet. He felt something wrapped around his wrists, and as he pulled against him he felt the rope scrape across his wrists. He was tied onto the back wall by his wrists, and his legs had been what felt like whipped raw. Even if he did break free there was no way he would be able to stand. He couldn't even open his eyes without blood filling them up. It wouldn't even have mattered if he tried, because it was only seconds before A.J. passed out again.

Perhaps it was the way they carried him, or maybe it was the barking that woke him. Either way, he opened his eyes just the same. All he could see was flakes of dried blood crumbling from his eye lid, and the ground of someplace that was over grown and alive with plants he had never seen before. Then he heard the howling, and the barking of something he'd only hoped was a friendly Labrador. He struggled against what was holding him, hearing a voice grumble into the silence, "Make sure the ropes are tight, he's awake." Grunting, someone pulled tightly against the ropes that bound his hands, strung around his waist and tightened around his thighs. "They're tight, where's the, eh, yea." A.J. moved around slightly to feel what was surrounding him. Two men it felt like were holding him, each tightening their grip as he moved. Another made his presents known as a piece of soft cold cloth was tied around his head, covering his eyes gently. He couldn't tell if they wanted to hurt him or not, was it them that whipped his legs? Was it them that had punched him in gut so that every time he moved vomit plunged into the back of his throat? How could they be so rough one moment, then take a whole minuet just to make sure his blind fold was gentle enough for him? Confused and hurt, he didn't fight them as they set him on the ground and left. He heard the footsteps hurriedly pace away, and whispers increasingly becoming louder. They had left him here, tied and alone. Maybe it was in fact them that had done those things. Sighing, A.J. closed his eyes too tired to care if he would ever see home again. There was no point; he would never survive with these ropes so tight. Even so, struggling a little, he fought to remove them. One ripped open, and then another. He struggled against the one around his throat. He couldn't move it, along with the few left. Sleep taking him over, he could only plead one last hope into the silence. "Help?"

Movement echoed through his ears.

His ropes became loose, and slowly were lifted off him. Warm breath patted against his neck, becoming faster as a howl echoed once again. The blind fold gently moved off his face, and before him a man leaned over him. He looked young, and his longer brown hair fell over his face. He smiled before pushing himself up. "I couldn't leave you like that." He said, looking meeting A.J.'s emerald green eyes with his crystalizing blue. The howling became louder, and he looked fearfully at the dark forest behind him. "I have to go, be careful." He turned around, walking quickly away. Just as he was about to disappear out of sight, he stopped and turned around. He smiled a large grin before yelling back, "I worked with your dad once!"

England paced irritated across the hall. "A.J.!" He yelped at the top of his voice, anger shaking it. He pounded on the door, biting his lip until a copper taste of blood streaked his tongue. He didn't answer, and again England screamed his name out. "That's it! I told you not to k-knock, er, lock your bloody DOOR!" England slurred, and he hiccupped a bit of alcohol back up. Sliding down the door, England fell to his knees, coughing heavily. He once again lost eye sight, trying to desperately get the door open. "F-Franccccceee!" He screamed, kicking the door with his feet. Alcohol sputtered up through his throat as he began to choke. "Anglerette, stop being a drama queen, what's wrong?" France asked, running quickly up the stairs. He glanced over the helpless Brit on the floor, letting a 'honhonhon' fall from his lips. "Danngit F-France! He locked the door! I can't get a hug if the door isssss-" England cried, coughing harder. France stepped over the flailing England and pushed the door open. "Door knob England, door knob." France remarked, stepping into the room. "Mon Cherie? You in here?" He asked, taking a look around. "Anglerette, where is he?" England sighed, and pulled himself up. "Skate boarding?" He asked, looking at France for reassurance. "You need to stop drinking." France replied, walking to the garage. Pulling open the door, England screamed out, "But it's _that_ day!" France looked around, and noticed something sitting in the corner. "He's dead Anglerette! There's no reason to be sad on the 4th!" He hollered back, coming back into the house. "But It'll never be the same!" England whined out, watching France close the garage door. "You never get this sad on _my _independence day!" France whined back, making his way back towards the drunk Brit. "you don't even have one!" England cried back. France uttered a sigh of jealousy before pulling an object from behind his back. "Skate boarding?" He asked, waving A.J.'s skate board in front of England. England shrugged and reached for another bottle of wine. France quickly snatched it away. "No more, go get cleaned up, we need to find A.J."

He could have fallen back asleep for only hours, and yet it felt like days. He picked his body up heavily, wiping his eyes as he looked into the sky. The sun looked as if it was going down, and only a few rays dared to dip down and touch his skin. It burnt, and was red from the sun that had been pounding on him while he slept. A.J. Pushed himself into a sitting positing, gently brushing his legs. They were red and sore still, and the marks where he was whipped were bleeding slightly. More howls echoed from the forest. A.J. looked around him, hunger nipping at his stomach. He'd have to catch something if he wanted to eat, he didn't recognize any of the plants around here. The howls became louder, followed by a snarl. Whipping his head around, he spotted a scrawny dog, breathing heavily and snarling. Its coat was a short bristle grey, and its eyes were a dark color of yellow green. Drool dripped heavily from its jaws, foam oozing from its lower jaw. Even snot tickled from its nose, as its barks became louder. It stopped for a second, before its whole body shook as it let out a powerful howl. A.J. scuttled to his feet, pain searing up his legs. The animal approached forward in a fast whipping motion, stopping only to give off one last warning. A.J. stepped slowly back, carefully watching the animal. It howled again, and then returned back into the dark. He breathed a sigh, walking slowly away. He bit his lip trying to stop from feeling the wrenching pain from his stomach and legs. He tested his legs, then making sure he was far enough away from where the animal was, he broke out into a run. He wanted to get away as soon as he could. He jogged as fast as he could stand, when out of nowhere a howl echoed behind him. He turned to see the animal chasing him, its teeth bared while it made a deadline towards him. It jumped against his back, knocking him to his knees. Its bite landed into A.J.'s side, pulling him into his side. It tugged and ripped at his shirt. Cold tears fell from his eyes, as his adrenaline pumped harder and harder. "GET OFF!" A.J. Roared, pulling the animal off with his hands. He punched it as hard as he could, knocking it off its feet and causing it fly back a few feet. He ran forward, leaning to his side, landing on one hand and swinging his legs around he kicked the animal in its jaw, making it stand back for a second. Quickly jumping forward A.J. landed a punch on the soft part on the nose between its eyes. He cracked it open, and the beast fell to the ground. A.J. looked over the animal, his heart beating fast. Flood began to flow out of the bite marks, and he fell onto his knees over the wolf. Pulling back up, he dragged himself on, stopping only for a second to take a closer look at a tree. Western Hemlock, it was a Western Hemlock. A plant that was native to- "Alaska." He muttered, "I'm in Alaska, I'm in the US!" Hunger ate at his stomach; he had to remember what the plants were, what he could eat, before he starved! Collapsing on the ground, he clutched his side tightly. Pain seared through his body, and he let out a scream into the quiet sky. The sun fell down on his skin, and seared through his already burnt skin. Uttering a moan, he let his body collapse on the forest floor. He closed his eyes, then when all he could see was darkness, he opened them one last time. Red oozed onto the grass and dirt. His blood spilled from his side as his wound tore open more. He gasped for air as his mind shut off. He passed out again.

Now England was worried. He had sobered up, and even though his head pounded he still looked. "A.J.!" He cried out again. "Anglerette, you've been out there for hours, come inside!" France said, glancing back at Canada who had come over to help. Canada just kept staring out into the night sky, no emotions crossing his face. France hurried down the porch steps, grabbing England by the shoulder. "Let go! I don't need you right now frog face!" England snapped, trying to push France's hand off. "England." France said sternly and softly, looking England deeply into his eyes.  
England said nothing and nodded, he hung his head down low, a tear dripping down his cheek. "Where has he gone?" England asked France, his eyes tearing up. "I don't, I don't know." France answered, putting his arm around England. "Don't worry, he'll be back." Canada spoke up, his voice reassuring into the night. England looked at him curiously, "What are you doing?" He asked, watching Canada once again stare into the night sky. Canada smiled, "I'm waiting." France and England nodded confusedly, before going back inside into the warmth of the home. The door clicked shut, and Canada looked into the night sky. "Don't forget your promise, nephew."


	10. 17 years old and dangerous

Chapter zehn

A.J.'s heart stopped beating. Just for a second, when his eyes met the blood dripping from his side. It oozed a dark red and bled in a thick sticky manner, clinging to his clothes. He gripped it, trying to cut the flow again, and let out a startled cry as pain shot through his side. Lifting up his shirt his eyes met a dark purple scab that was coved in brown rotting ooze. It pussed and some blood even ran down with a yellow streak. A.J's heart dropped, along with new tears wetting his sunburnt cheeks. Gently wiping them away, and trying not to rub his burning face, he pulled his shirt down and kept walking. Currently, he was stuck in Alaska, a place he'd only heard of once or twice of from his text books. He was trying to find his way back to Virginia, back to his home he had so long ago. Back where he found hero, back where he found the old abandoned school. Here all they had were rabid wolves and anything alive that possessed the power to kill him. His bigger problem was that he was dehydrated, and all the water he had found was salt water. Just a few hours ago when he was searching the coastline for anything that could eat, he stumbled upon an old shipping boat. As he entered he found a half-eaten human clinging onto the railing. A.J. broke down then, his cheeks stung with cold tears as the heat from his burn swallowed them up. He said a prayer hoping that they would be okay, up there in heaven. Then he left the boat, his mind not able to process what he just saw. Now he walked along, trying not to remember what he saw, not to think about it. His heart still felt dark, as if he had just killed the person himself. He trekked on, the sun beating down on his blistered skin. Here in Alaska, the sun only dipped at night and as soon as morning came it reached up in the sky again. A.J. couldn't have cared less if his skin burned off, all he could think about was his life. His tongue was dry and raspy, and whatever he could produce to swallow became caught in his throat. A sudden lurch of his stomach and A.J. felt a familiar sickness take over his gut. It traveled up through his throat and into his head. Dizzy and about to vomit, he lowered onto his knees. He struggled not to pass out and swallowed the vomit in his throat. He looked up into the sky as a shadow passed over him. Watching with stinging eyes, as they slowly became darker, and darker. Struggling with a last effort he fought onto his feet. He walked slowly after the shadow as it flew close, almost touching A.J's hair. It landed on a branch of a tree, a tree that grew over a large spring. Sighing, A.J. collapsed in the water. He let his mind go and it was black again.

"Maybe he should just accept the fact A.J.'s gone." Turkey whispered, and Hungary nodded in agreement. "I heard he skipped out on all the Allie's meeting too." She replied quietly looking at Russia. Russia simply nodded as Hungary took a little step back. The three countries both looked at the empty seat at the table, the only chair left unsat in. It was another world meeting, and it was held for the exact reason that seat was empty. A country was missing. "Listen up, if you ever want to survive you'll help us." France snapped, making his presence known at the front of the room. A thick silence quickly drifted over the room, then a laugh started from the back. Its obnoxious noise caused every country to turn in surprise, and even a few looked in disgust. In the back Prussia smirked as his chorus of laughs slowly turned into a question that even startled France for a second. Just for a second. "If we don't help what will happen? You'll set England on us? He can't even do anything; he can't even come to his own son's emergency meeting." Murmuring broke through the countries and even a few dared enough to speak up. "I agree!" Korea spoke up, looking at china for reassurance. China simply shook his head, watching the next participant stand up. "Yea! He's right! Why should we waste our supplies and people when all you can do is stick a weak England on us!" Turkey cried, pumping his fist as if he had just won victory. Japan quickly stood up, and maybe just for the sake of arguing with Turkey, he replied back sharply. "Not true! England is not weak!" Then he turned to France looking at him apologetically. "He's right though, your bark carries no bite." France looked to the side, his face covered by his hair. No one could tell what he was thinking, and no one noticed as that empty seat became no longer empty. "Mon Cherie." France whispered, slowly turning back towards the anxious crowd. A tear streaked down his cheek and he looked away again, and that obnoxious laugh rang again. "What did I tell you! France couldn't bite if he wanted to! Then we couldn't love him, right guys?" Prussia almost sang, flaunting his victory. "Not that we do." Australia muttered under his breath. Prussia pulled himself up, stretching his body and giving a big yawn. "Whelp, I think this pointless meeting is adjourned."

"Wait."

A.J. looked up at the sky. A breeze drifted across his bare skin and he shivered. It was cold and unlike the warm breezes he had felt before, it held a kick. He relaxed his body and let the water of the spring come up to his neck. The water was cold, but it couldn't have felt better on his burnt skin. A.J. watched the sun dip down as it always did. Purple streaked the sky along with a few yellow lines, and the rest was a dark blue. He swam across the spring picking a few berries off a nearby tree. He recognized them as black berries, and they grew like weeds around the spring. Sour but sweet juice stung his tongue as he savored the black berries. He was starving, but not enough to eat everything at once. He looked back up to the sky; it was in its normal position. It would stay that was for a few hours before he'd have to stay under shade from its burn. "Je voudrais décrocher la lune, je voudrais même sauver la terre, mais par-dessus tout, je voudrais parler à mon père, parler à mon père." He hummed softly to himself. It was a song France showed him, and he fell in love with it. In English, it says, "I would reach for the moon, I would even save the earth, but above all, I would talk to my dad, talk to my dad". A.J. let out a sigh, glancing up at the faded stars. "Talk to my dad." He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what he would have looked like. All he could see were two sapphire eyes meeting his, and the rest was blurred by imagination. He yawned, trying to remember home. He remembered England putting a kettle of tea on cussing as Hero ran under his feet. He remembered France giving him flirting tips, and introducing him to 18+ fan fictions. Most of all he remembered France's big smile and England's grin. Each held something special that not anything could describe. Even hero had a smile, that cat smile you couldn't see but you knew it was there. A.J. closed his eyes, thinking about the cat he loved with all his heart. It was a special cat; he had lived over 50 years, and never aged. England once told him it was magic but . . . A.J opened his eyes. The sun had disappeared from sight and the moon peeked over the hill where the sun was supposed to be. "Why isn't the moon in its normal place? Where's the sun?" Another cold breeze passed over his shoulder. It was freezing this time. Winter was coming.

Hate. If hate could be a person, it would be France right now. Anger pierced through anyone he looked at, and a red aura literally flamed around him. His face was red and shaded with an unnatural darkness. His blue eyes glimmered with a deep red. His teeth might have even been sharp if you could have seen them, but his mouth had no expression. He looked solely at Prussia and the room grew dark. Prussia gulped, trying not to let his "Awesomeness" falter. "Prussia, England's not the one you should be worried about." France murmured in a deep voice, sending chills up everyone's back. Prussia gulped and tried to back away from the table. Slowly and dangerously France advanced towards Prussia, keeping his eyes locked into his target. It only took a second as France swiftly picked Prussia up by his collar and lifted him over five feet off the ground. "It's me." With that France punched the table with his free hand, causing its feet to break under it. I fell with a large crash as everyone scurried from their chairs surprised. "GOT ME?" France snapped, setting his hand on Prussia's heart as if to rip it out. "G-got it." Prussia squeaked. France dropped him by his colour, but he didn't revert back to normal. He wouldn't. Not until his Mon Cherie came back. Dusting his shirt off, Prussia took a seat, avoiding the broken table. "Now that's something even I can respect."

Two years later

Another day I suppose. One day after the other, that's how it works right? I shifted against my seat, no emotion coming through me. "Anglerette?" France called from down stairs. He was calling for me again, but I pretended no to here. I just wanted to stay here in my sweet isolation. No one could get in and I wasn't ever coming out. I did once, back with America. Back when he was little . . . I almost did with his son. I leaned my head against the wall trying to take the memories and throw them away. What is it with these Americans? "Anglerette?" He called again, but I just closed my eyes. I didn't want him to call me again. I was so tired of being in this world. "Anglerette." There it was again, he called me just like that for the last ten times. Never raising his voice, never coming up to get me. He just waited patiently for me to come on my own. Rising to my feet, I left my corner of darkness and slowly paced down the stairs. I traced the railing with my finger while I counted each step. One . . . two . . . "Anglerette." France saw me, he watched me carefully as if I was a fragile butterfly's wing. He didn't want to tear me but he wouldn't let me fly. "Anglerette, pack your bags. We're going to Canada." He said, waiting for me to reply. "Why?" I asked, moaning as my toe slipped off a step. "Careful England." France said quickly, almost jumping up when my foot slipped. I wanted to yell at him for trying to care for me, but all that came out was, "I'm fine. Don't bother." France nodded slightly, understanding our friendship. "Canada called me on the phone last night, it sounded urgent. He was a mess, he said something about murder. He told me something about his house, and what I could make out from his blubbering was he wanted us to come because he was scared." I sighed. He has to be America's brother; he's just as big a scardy cat. "When?" I asked softly, pacing into my room. "Ten minutes."

"Are you sure this is safe?!" I cried holding onto my seat for dear life. "Euh, it's a little beaten up, but-"France's sentence was cut off by a large motor catching fire. "Merde" France uttered under his breath. The plane swerved downward, and as much as France struggled, it kept that path. "Grab the parachutes!" France cried, his voice carrying a little happy tune, as if he was waiting for this to happen all his life. I pulled two parachutes out, and quickly snapped one on my own back. "Here, take this or die. I don't care either way." France let out a laugh before saying sarcastically, "I can feel the love you have for me in every word you say. Slow down you sexy rebel or you'll smoother me in it. He took the sarcastic term, "Love you too" way too far. For that I slapped him, and then jumped out the plane. He unfortunately followed, and the whole way down made sexy poses as if I was actually watching him. I was, but as far I was concerned, I saw nothing. We floated down onto a tree, landing in its large branches. I was on the left side, and France was on the right. A few minutes passed as we both took in what just happened. "I told you not to take that plane." I remarked quickly as he barely got a few words in. "Well it was safe back then!" I sighed. "Frog! How the bloody heck are we going to get down?!" France sighted. "Well I mean, we could wiggle out or-" SCHHHK. That was the sound of an arrow hitting the bark of the tree only inches away from my hand. "DEAR SWEET GOSH WERE UNDER ATTACK." Another arrow hit the tree, digging in until only a few inches could be seen of the end of the arrow. "Who gets though arrows that sharp?" France asked, keeping extremely calm for such a drastic situation. "Well when you're alone for a few years, you spend a lot of time sharpening arrows." A young man stepped out in front of us. He swept his blonde-red hair back dramatically. He was a dark tan, and his smile was none you'd ever seen before. It was a smirk and yet still a smile. On his shoulder sat an eagle. It let out a screech before taking off into the air. The man stepped forward, his hand holding a gun. "Who are you?" I asked, trying to get a closer look at him. He grinned again, firing the gun into the air. Instead of bullets, an arrow shot out. It came falling down and he caught it quickly. "Come on, I'm sure you've heard of me?" He said, leaning against a tree. I looked at him closely, he was tall, at least 6'3. "No, should I?" I asked curiously. He gave a big smile, before gently sweeping his hair from above his eyes. His eyebrows . . . He saw me look at him in surprise. "How's Hero?"

I smiled at them. They had no idea. They had no idea what I really wanted to do to them. They left me, they left me in this forest. "Hero's fine, he's actually been worried sick for the past two years. What happened? Where are we?" I let out a laugh. As if they didn't know what happened. They were the ones who did it! "You are in Maine. Bar Harbor Maine." I replied cheerfully. "Can you help us down A.J.?" England asked fearfully, his parachute ripping a little. "Yea." I climbed the tree in a snap, using my upper body strength to push myself into a handstand on one of the tree branches. Balancing perfectly, I hooked my foot around the parachute rope. With a tug and swing over to England, hanging only by my foot connected to the rope. "You just snap right here." I unbuckled England's straps and let him fall to the ground. I could have caught him, but I'll just blame it on gravity. "Bloody!" England screamed as he hit the ground. It was only five feet down, but still enough to give his tailbone a nice bruise. France managed to unbuckle himself, landing on his feet. "You were a lot clumsier when I was little." I remarked snidely. "A lot has 'appened since then." He said, and a shiver ran up my back. He wasn't this cold back then . . . I guess that's what happens when you crash land into an abandoned country and see the person you tried to get rid of. "What are you wearing?" England asked as I turned around. I smiled as he eyes my shorts confused. "My shirt is a normal green t-shirt I found in Wal-Mart. Of course it was free, because everyone's dead, but you know." My voice choked a little when I said that. It was still hard to talk about, but I still tried to make them realize what I knew. "Oh, and the shorts?" England asked, clearly not catching on. "They're a new type of fabric. Their like spandex, but more form fitting. Amazing what type of materials you can find near lava. Like the lava that destroyed most my country." I snapped again, trying to make it clearer. "And the blue circles?" He asked. Of course it's just like him to act like that. So clueless and yet he still knows everything. "They're for decoration." I lied. They definitely weren't for decoration, but I couldn't trust him with what I found. France and I made eye contact. He looked at me as if he knew I just lied. His eyes drifted down to my hand. I tried to hide it behind my back, but he already saw. "What's that?" He asked, pointing at my hand. "It's just a glove." I lied again, and now he made it clear what he knew. "I'm sure that's why you only have one on." I shrugged, "arrow shooting head." I knew he didn't believe me, but there was no way I was risking telling them what I had done. "Follow me." It was time to make them feel what I did.

England. England? That was his name right? That's all he could think as fear filled him as it never had before. All he knew he was fallowing someone he loved. Someone he lost then found, someone who had filled his heart back up with hope. At first he was scared A.J. had changed, but as he laughed he laughed too. It was him. And he never wanted to lose him. Now A.J. held a knife to his throat, and France was on the floor knocked out. A.J. pressed the knife gently against England's throat. A drip of blood trickled down England's neck, and seeped into the color of his shirt. "Alf-fred?" England choked. "Do you feel it?"

"F-feel it?"

"Alone?"

Alone . . . is that what A.J. wanted him to feel?

"Y-you never said how you got here. You o-only laughed and-" England started to choke, as A.J. pressed the knife harder against his throat.

"YOU. IM HERE BECAUSE OF YOU."

"w-what?"

"Don't play stupid England. When I was bleeding and near death-"

"You were hurt?"

"Shut up!" A.J. lifted the knife to England's lips and used his other hand to hold his throat. "I found a library. I looked up the history of every country I could find, but most importantly my dad's. I found who worked for him. For a little bit, the country called Latvia worked for him. A COUNTRY. Just like me, just like YOU."

"How does that make it me?" England choked out before A.J. Pressed the knife against his lips

"Not just you. All countries. I hate them all." A.J. muttered under his breath before putting the knife back into his pocket. Then his showed his gloved hand and smiled. "This isn't just a glove-"

"No, it's an energy generator." France said, struggling onto his knees. "Your right, but its more than that." A.J. smirked. He kicked France back down to the floor and pressed his foot onto France's head. "It's a lot of things. It's an iPod for example. Itunes still works by the way. I just had to find a big generator and Wi-Fi. Hospitals are great for that. But you also know what hospitals are great for? Death. Bodies lining the halls. And when you're alone, there's nothing worse than that." A.J. turned his head away, struggling against for the tears. "Do it. Save Anglerette and do it on me." France whispered. "Do what?" England cried helpless. "This." A.J. smiled, holding his hand up to the sky. A tear fell from his cheek, as blue small electricity shocked from his glove. He looked England in the eyes and the electric waves turned into an uncontrollable red shock. "An Energy generator takes power from certain energy, in this case the sun. But it also takes another energy. Blood. So I cut myself, I peeled the skin off my wrists, so I could do this. The waves stuck the ground, leaving it burnt. "That's not just all it needs." France spoke up. "It needs energy from a more powerful source. Like a country's emotion. In this case hate." A.J. nodded, and the shocks grew, each one striking out uncontrollably. "Hard to control hate." With that England ripped the glove off, and A.J. gave a shriek in pain. His hand was revealed underneath, red and bloody. Its skin was torn, and pale. "It was sucking your blood right out of you!" England cried in horror. A.J. laughed, losing his balance and falling to the ground. "Price I was willing to pay for someone who left me to get eaten by wolves, someone who left my in a land full of the dead, someone who left me with nothing but myself." A.J. snapped, wiping the blood onto his shorts. "What are you doing?" England asked, watching in horror. "Doesn't that hurt?" A.J. shook his head no. "The blue circles double over as disinfectant and numbing serum. When blood is applied the serum is released. Just one of many abilities." France picked himself off the ground, his body shaking, and his knees scraped. He pulled his heavy body over to A.J. He impressed him in a tight hug, letting sobs take his over. "You would have died." He squeaked. "You would have-" France closed his eyes and laid down. He fell asleep immediately. A.J. picked his hand up with his unbloody hand. "Why did I do it? I thought that's what you wanted?" England leaned down and took A.J.'s other hand. "It wasn't me, it wasn't France. You can trust us." They made eye contact for a while, and when they finally broke A.J. nodded. "Sorry about that." He said, pointing to the damages done to the two other countries. England laid A.J.'s hand gently on his lap. "I'm sorry."

Canada laid on the ground, scratching his finger nails into the floor. "Stop. I can't. I can't. Stop"


	11. Back to England

Chapter elf

It was a cold night when he finally awoke. Looking around he noticed no one else had stirred from the cold wind but him, and regretfully he layed back down to sleep. He wished he had something to cover his shivering body, and even more for a decent pillow. The wind was bitter and sharp, the trees rustled unsettled, and the moon had disappeared from the sky. Stars sparkled in the pitch dark, the only thing he could see for miles. He, France, and Alfred had stopped for the night in the thick of the forest. With a small realization as he shifted his body, he suddenly became aware of a pounding against his bladder. He moved uncomfertably trying to stop the urge to pee, but the terrifying truth couldn't be avoided. He'd have to walk alone through the forest. Lifting himself up nervously, he rushed to his feet as his bladder began to push harder. He crossed his legs in a quick effort to stall the unenviable, and tried to shuffle towards the end of the clearing. Once he reached the edge, he stuck his hands out feeling for a tree. His heart sped up as no tree met his hands, and he stepped back confused. Another quick urge pounded him, and he bravely stepped farther into the forest. He walked carefully, his hands once again forward and reaching. Bark snagged onto his jacket's shoulder, and with relief he turned to meet a tree. Stepping behind it, he fumbled with his pants' button. With a small tug it came through and with satisfaction he quickly unzipped his pants. His bladder urged him on, and he tried his hardest to pull his pants down with cold, numb hands. Finally with a last effort he pulled them all the way down, and along with his underclothing, he managed to relieve his pounding bladder. After he was done, he smoothly lifted his clothing back onto his waist, zipped up his pants, redid the button, and turned around to leave. Just as he took his first step a tree met his face, and his head made a loud thunk as the two collided. Letting out a screech of horror and fear, he made a mad dash for anywhere. He kept running, and running. Past trees, past the crunching leaves that got louder and louder as his ears blurred with the pounding of his feet on the hard ground. His heart became a fear of its self it's beat filling the scilence of the cold air. His feet began to ache from the frozen ground, and he could hardly feel as they became wet with a warm water. He finally stopped when he felt water up to his waist. At first he registered it as an accident, and he flushed red with embarrassment. Reaching down he tried to feel how bad he had gone, but panached when his fingers trailed over the surface of a pond. He dipped his hand in, and felt the unusually warm water trickle down his elbow onto his shirt. Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, a small creature flew from the darkness of the forest. It glowed like the moon in its absence, a white aura flowing from the ruffles in its dress. It had angelic body, in the shape of a human, with a long ruffled dress drafting on its tender skin. It's wings beated fast, moving the still air. It flew over gracefully, hovering over his shoulder. He looked into the surface pf the pond's water, using the delacates creatures aura for light. His blond hair's tips were dark and wet with sweat, and his face was a pale color that made his cheeks seem a bright red. His green eyes sparked in the light, and he gave a half smile at his distorted self. "England?" She spoke softly, sweeping down to his ear. He smiled back up at the fairy. "Isabelle."

"Honhonhonhonhon Anglerette! Oh I've never seen you this... (Censored for reasons that I'd rather not go over)" That is what France kept literally chanting for the last hour in his sleep, always changing the last part to something worst than before. "France. Please, SHUT UP. I SWEAR ONE MORE WORD OF FRUK AND-"  
"Where's Anglerette?" France asked confused. "What are you talking about? He's with you." I replied, but as I turned in my makeshift bed, it realized that France was laying alone, gripping a pillow in a way that can only be found in 50 shades of grey. I unwillingly pushed myself onto my feet, but as I did so France seemed to flinch. I didn't really care, until I noticed that the knife I had used earlier was laying no longer by my bedside, but his. "France, give me that knife." He looked at me with a sort of dread, before slowly answering, "Why?"  
"Because I need to go get breakfast"  
"Why so you need a knife?"  
"Do you see any fast food restraunts here!?"  
"No, why?"  
"France, I have to go kill breakfast."  
At this he moved uncomfertably, all most seeming to want to fight back. "What about Anglerette?"  
"He's probably out in the forest trying to make scones out of rocks." I replied, giving him a wave of the hand as a recovered my bed with dirt. France gave me a look that could be considered under the category of sexual harassment, then quickly skipped and frolicked towards the woods. "France wait up!" I shouted after him, deciding food could wait. I quickly caught up with him, and he greeted me happily, bounding towards the tree's edge. "France, this way." I said quickly, pointing behind us. He looked at me wierd. "Alfred?" He asked, clearly confused why I was walking opposite way. I trotted over to the fire-pit we had made the night before. "Look at the ash around the pit. There's a foot print pointing the opposite way." France praised me for being smart, but in all honesty I wasn't quiet sure who's foot print it was. We walked to end of the forest again, this time on the other side. "Alfred, what do you see? Anymore hints?" He asked excitedly like we were in some kind of detective movie. Either way, I bent down to check the ground. I've had to track a lot of animals, but as for humans I had no idea. "Well some of the grass is trampled, but it could have been by an animal..." I drifted off. "Come on, I'm sure it was 'im!" France announced, frolicking on. It wasn't until a few minuets later when we really knew he came this way. "Alfred, look here!" I looked over and saw France tapping the ground with his foot. It bent under his foot, and was clearly damp with sometching more acidic than rain water. "Hold on, I think your on to something." France shined when I said that, and bent down near the puddle. "Anglerette was defentally here!" He announced, and I understood what he ment. This is why he left at night, he had to go. "France, check the ground for foot steps." He obeyed and started to look around. "Mon- Alfred!" He choked. I looked over at him. "Were you going to call me Mon Cherie?"  
"Yes, but-"  
"Why didn't you?"  
"Alfred look! Foot prints! Anglerette!"  
Before I could say anything else France broke into a run after the foot prints. I slow jogged after him, still wondering why he wouldn't call me Mon Cherie.

England looked around lost. He wasn't anywhere near the lake. He awoke on the site where the three of them had been sleeping. "France?" England squeaked, looking around scared. Was the lake just a dream? England pulled himself onto his legs shakily. His shirt was drenched with sweat, no wait... It was lake water. So if the lake wasn't a dream, how did he get here? And then...HOW DID THAT GET THERE?! England's eyes looked onto the plane that had first crashed them onto the foreign land of America. "Alfred?! France?!" England screamed on the top of his lungs. The front door of the plane popped open and the two countries walked out. "Good morning Iggy!" Alfred smiled, doing a quick twirl before jumping down ten feet. He landed grace fully on his feet and egged France to do the same. The more considerate country took the stair ladder down. "Ready to go Anglerette?" France asked gently, putting his arm around England. "France get off me you git!" England snapped pulling France's arm off him. He walked briskly to the plane's stairs and climbed them. "Come on France, come on Alfred." France walked forward, but Alfred stayed where he was. England looked at him confused. "Alfred, come on." Alfred stayed still, shaking his head. "I'm staying." England looked at him surprised. "You don't want to come home?" Alfred shook his head again. "This is my home." He replied, stepping back. England looked at him fir a second, trying to decide what to do. "Alfred, I'm sorry." Alfred looked at him. "What for?" England began to descend back down the stairs. "In the name of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, I claim you Alfred Jr. Jones, as United Kingdom territory." And with that England knocked Alfed upside the head, and the country fell to the ground passed out. "France, help me get him on the plane."

"ENGLAND OPEN THE DOOR!" I screamed again, my voice cracking. I coughed and my throat became sore with a scratchy taste of copper. "Please... I want to go home." There was no answer. I was locked in a room on the plane, and as much as I tried to break the door down, the metal was far stronger. "Someone..." I slumped against the wall and curled into a ball. I was on the edge of crying, and as much as I struggled it was almost impossible to keep the tears from falling. My breathing became harsh as I struggled not to shout out again, but this time regretting what I would say. I bit my lip and shouted it at the top of my voice. No reply again. This point I let everything go, and my shirt began to drench with salty tears. "Why are you crying?" Something spoke softly. I looked up and saw a small farie gracefully floating next to me. She couldn't have been taller than my palm, and a silky ruffled dress layed on her fair skin. "Your the farie that fixed the plane, weren't you?" I asked her, and she nodded. "Why are you crying?" She asked again, floating to my other side. I wiped away my tears. "It's just that I'm locked in here, it's very hot, and I want to go home." The farie smiled, and then seemed to glow. "I can help you with two of those, but one your going to have to fix your self." Then just like that she faded out. Almost immediately a motor sounded above me, and cool air began to pour out. There was a small click, and the metal door slid open. I ran up to my feet and barreled out barely noticing England standing by the doors in shock. The only think I could think, was that I had to find an escape. I would jump, I might not survive, but I would jump. Right then my face was met with a soft material. It was France's shirt, and he jumped back in surprise. "Alfred?" Suddenly I felt something cold burn inside me. Not able to control it, I lashed out at France, punching him in the stomacke. He leaned over in pain and looked up at me, his eyes were full of confusion and hurt. "DONT CALL ME ALFRED!" I cried at the top of my voice, grabbing his collar. My voice broke into a desperate sob as I cried, "I want to be called Mon Cherie! Why won't you call me Mon Cherie?!"  
"It's because we can't trust you."  
England stood behind me, his arms crossed and an angered look on his face. "What?" I asked as my voice descended into a sound of desperatesy. "Look at what your doing right now." England replied cooly, pointing at my hands. I looked down as he said, and realized I was chocking France with his collar. I quickly let go and he dropped onto the floor, coughing and struggling for air. I backed up, shaking my head violently. "I-I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to!" England stepped forward. "Alfred wait." Shaking my head I took off again, this time afraid of myself. I looked to my feet, and all I saw was feet. I looked at my legs, my torso, even my hair, but that's all they were. I stopped running for just a second and looked into a window's reflection. But this time, what I saw wasn't just a face. It was mine...Covered in blood. I looked down at my shaking hands...and they too were dripping with that horrible, fresh blood. I fell into my knees, and tried to wipe it off. No matter how hard I tried, the blood wouldn't come off, it just spread. Soon almost every part of me was covered in it. Footsteps echoed behind me, and as I turned I saw England and France cornering me. But what I saw on them was far worse. England's head was dripping with blood, and France's nose was streaming with it. I did that...I know I did. I couldn't hurt them anymore...I looked to the window. I braved myself, and punched it as hard as a could. It started to crack, and I punched it again and again, and agian, and again, and again. my hand ached, but I couldn't tell my blood from the blood of the others. I closed my eyes as they got closer, air pouring in from the window. And then... I pulled myself out of it.  
Then I fell.

England saw what he was trying to do before he did it. Together him and France cornered Alfred, and managed to push him to the ground. He had put a nice crack in the window, but never as far as to break it. He had actually hit the ground pale white before he could swing again. France informed England it was from fear, and they dragged him back into the metal room. It turns out he wasn't as strong as America, not by a long shot. France said it was strange because he seemed a lot stronger when he was little. Either way they weren't taking any chances, and made sure to double lock the door. When they opened it back up and found he was still passed out, both of them began to worry. England took him inside the house, and France went to grab Hero. England managed to get him onto the couch and grab the cleaning alcohol. Finding some cotten swabs, he dipped them in the alcohol and began to clean the blood off Alfred's knuckles. Then he cleaned up th cut on Alfred's forehead and the scrap on his wrist. He was glad Alfred was still knocked out and not having to feel the alcohol. After pulling a cover over the sleeping country, England left to take care of his own wounds. Back on the plane, when Alfred began to ran, England went to stop him. He stepped in the way, and the poor teenage country got to startled and swung forward, punching England's head so hard the skin split. With slight resistance he lifted the alcohol cotten swab to his forehead. Sharp pain invaded the cut, and England struggled not to cuss. "Anglerette, I found 'ero!" France announced, walking into the bathroom holding the large feline. "Good heavens France take care of your nose! It's still bleeding!" England snapped. "'He 'it me hard!" France replied as he grabbed a tissue. "'ow is 'e by the way?" France asked seriously. "He's home, that's all that matters." England replied. "And no matter what, it's staying like that."


End file.
